The Wicked
by Rose Diamund
Summary: Trapped behind a veil of desire, Christine is mystified by both a charming, young Vicomte and a seductive, passionate Phantom. Christine soon learns that either way, there will be a price to pay...
1. Angel of Music

**Author's Note: **Well, this is my most recent story 'The Wicked.' I have a few good ideas for this, so I hope you'll all like it!

_{Rose Diamund}_

**Summary: **A re-write of Phantom of the Opera. Christine Daae's Angel of Music has always been there. But soon her childhood sweetheart Raoul DeChagney stumbles upon the Opera in which she works as a chorus girl. Trapped behind a veil of desire, and mystified by both a young, charming Vicomte, and a seductive, passionate phantom, Christine soon finds that either way there will be a price to pay...

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><p><strong>The Wicked<strong>

**Angel of Music**

A sincere silence filled Christine Daae's dressing room. Christine sat on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, a sullen and frightened look spread across her beautifully youthful face. Her chocolate brown eyes darted urgently across the room. "_Angel?" _Christine whispered frantically. "Is… is that you?"

There was no reply. There usually wasn't. Christine sighed shakily. Her room was dark and cold, but she stayed where she was, practically unmoving. "Angel… _please."_

Again there was only an agonizing silence to greet her.

Christine swallowed nervously. "Please. A-are you there?" She stammered, hardly abiding the inaudible menace.

A voice rung out then, coming from everywhere and nowhere. "Yes, Christine. I am here."

Christine glanced around the room, trying desperately to locate the source of the voice, "Have I- have I displeased you? Is that why you have left me for all these weeks?"

There was a pause. "You could never displease me, my dear."

"Angel, I have been worried. Where are you? Please- let me see you." Christine beseeched.

Another hesitation, "That is not possible."

"Why-?"

"We do not need to discuss this now." Came the harsh man's voice. His voice softened, "I… just wanted to hear you sing."

Christine looked towards the ceiling, scanning it wearily, "I have not rehearsed in weeks. Not since you came to me last."

"A voice such as your does not need to be rehearsed."

And so, Christine sang, her voice piercing the quiet room. It was a sound of- of an angel. She was untrained, it was true, but her voice sounded pure and gratifying. It was addictive, mysterious, and mostly seductive. The way she flew throw melodies was nothing short of admirable, and utterly beautiful. As the song slowed and Christine's voice soon stopped, the music clung to the air for a moment.

"Entrancing." Came the man's voice.

Christine looked down humbly. "Angel?"

"Yes?"

"You will visit me again. Soon?" Christine inquired hopefully. This man… whoever he was, was all she could look forward to. Every time she heard his voice her heart began to thump wildly. Perhaps, it was due to the lack of anything mysterious in her life. The lack of any excitement. Or maybe it was the seductive praise this man gave to her. Whatever it was, she wanted more of it. She consumed every word her spoke to her, and when he was gone she felt alone. Abandoned. He was_ her_ angel of music. Her own secret to lock away deep in her heart and carry forever. And yet, it pained her that she had never set eyes on him. She had only heard his voice, but never taken his hand in hers. Never saw him face to face.

"I will come to you when I am able, my dear." He promised fervently. A strange element was in his voice. Something she had never heard before. Fear, could it be? No. It was… something much more and much less.

"Angel?" She called into the darkness.

There was no reply. He had gone again, disappearing into the shadows and creeping away without any sound.

Little did Miss Daae know, that her angel would stay in the shadows for a long time, consumed in his own darkness. He would stay so until one day when a young man would come to the Opera. And that, is when the whole story began to unfold… when the truth finally came out… and when Christine finally understood what it was to be trapped.

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><p><strong>So, what did you think? Good beginning, bad beginning? I REALLY want to hear what you have to say... next chapter coming soon...<strong>

****_{Rose Diamund}_


	2. The Meeting

**A quick note: **I portray all the characters of phantom, as they are in the 2004 musical. Emmy Rossum as Christine, Gerard Butler as Erik, Patrick Wilson as Raoul, ect.

I hope you enjoy this next chapter of 'The Wicked'!

_{Rose Diamund}_

**The Wicked**

**2. The Meeting**

It was Meg Giry who saw him approaching first. A tall, muscled man with long, curly light brown hair down to his shoulders and light eyes. Soon enough, all eyes fell upon him.

Christine's lips parted and a stunned look washed over her face. _Could it be? _Yes. "It's Raoul."

Meg looked confused, "Who?"

"I suppose you could say we were childhood sweethearts." Christine replied, her eyes smiling upon thinking of all those sweet memories.

Meg smiled, "Oh Christine, he is so handsome."

Christine watched him speaking, though she was not listening. She was thinking- just of what Meg had said. _He's so handsome. _He turned around and walked towards Christine's direction. Her heart stopped for a moment. But then, to her utter dejection, he walked right past her, without so much as a glance. Her face fell, "He wouldn't recognize me."

"He didn't see you." Meg persisted.

"Girls!" Madame Giry, Meg's mother, hissed, "You're onstage now!"

Christine and Meg ran out, dancing with the rest of the chorus girls. It was then Christine two men standing over by Madame Giry. One had wild white hair, and the other thick, dark hair. They were middle-aged, and looked completely bewildered. Christine suddenly got back into the danced after forgetting herself for a moment. Soon, she had forgotten everything else accept the music swaying her movements. She glided across the floor, the other dancers at her heels. When the song had finished, Christine let out an uneven, ragged breath.

Meg tapped her on the shoulder, grinning, "You were wonderful."

Christine beamed, "As were you." Christine didn't know why she was always told how 'wonderful' of a dancer she was. She was always told that music spoke to her in a way it didn't to anyone else. And in a way, she knew it was true. It was a passion of hers. And she could easily dance circles around those inadequate dancers. But whenever Christine danced, she felt... hollow. As if there were nothing in her but a plethora of swift and sensual movements for entertainment. As if she hadn't anything else to offer.

From the other side of the stage, Carlotta, the Prima Donna of the opera with an atrociously out-of-key operatic Italian voice, was complaining to the two men, screaming with a shrill vigor. Christine only got bits of the argument- mostly Carlotta's- but she heard, "Now I am really leaving! Bye-bye!" Carlotta shouted obnoxiously.

Christine had been secretly hoping Carlotta would leave for months now. Carlotta was not anywhere near talented, and she made a fuss over everything. Christine felt a twinge of guilt for even thinking such a cruel thought.

"Goddess of song!" One of the men chortled at Carlotta.

_Goddess of song? _Christine sighed.

Meg sneered and cupped her hand over Christine's ear, "Do you think they heard her sing yet?"

Christine smiled and whispered, "When they do they'll have a surprise, won't they?"

Meg rolled her eyes, "I never understood why everybody was so committed to making sure she'd stay at the opera. With her lack of talent it would not be so prudent to keep her here."

Christine merely nodded in agreement, but when she looked up from Meg she soon saw everybody's gaze had fixed on her. Madame Giry stepped up and took Christine's hand, leading her towards the center of the stage, "Christine Daae could sing it, sir."

Christine looked from Madame Giry to the men and back, "S-sing what?"

"What a chorus girl, the star of an opera? Don't be ridiculous." The white, wild haired man said doubtfully.

Madame Giry's eye never wavered from Christine, a gleam in her eyes read: _I know your secret. "_She has been well taught, Monsieur Andre."

Andre looked to Christine, "By who?"

Christine felt Madame Giry's penetrating gaze on her, but she dissembled not to notice, "I... I do not know his name, Monsieur."

"Just let her sing for you." Madame Giry insisted. "She will not disappoint."

The other, taller man nodded, "I suppose. Come along, Mademoiselle Daae, then. No need to be shy."

Christine stepped forward to the center, she felt her knees grow weak as she heard whispers grow behind her, and then, utter silence. She felt all eyes on her, as if she were suffocating. But then, the familiar music began to play from the orchestra pit, and Christine felt herself become more and more confident. A moment later, her tender voice rang out strong and clear.

_"Think of me... think of me fondly when we've said goodbye..._

_Remember me... once in a while, please promise me you'll try..._

_When you find... that once again you long... to take your heart back and be free..._

_If you ever find a moment... spare a thought for me..."_

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><p>Deep, deep below the stage, a man stood, his eyes closed, his lips parted just so as he listened to the melody and the voice of one girl. This man was deep in the catacombs of the opera for one reason alone. And it was for the same reason that he was Christine Daae's angel of music, and yet could not step out of the shadows for her to see. And again, it was the same reason he was what was known as- The Phantom of the Opera.<p>

A clean, white half-mask covered the left half of his face. He now stood below the stage, rejoicing silently as he listened to his student-his love- Christine Daae.

_"We never said... our love was evergreen..._

_Or as unchanging as the sea... but if you can still remember_

_Stop and think of me..."_

Her angelic voice leaked through the floorboards, making him close his eyes with bliss and desire.

_"Think of me... Think of me waking_

_Silent and resigned... imagine me..._

_Trying too hard to _

_Put you from my mind..._

_Recall those days... think back on all those times... think of those things we'll never do..._

_There will never be a day... when I won't think of you..."_

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><p>From his place in box seven, Vicomte Raoul DeChagney watched the stage in awe. This beautiful girl, with the curly brown hair and heavenly brown eyes with such a voice! Wait- could that be-?<p>

"Christine." Raoul muttered under his breath, a smile spreading rapidly across his face. He decided right at that moment, he would pay a visit to Miss Daae right after the performance.

_"Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade_

_They have their seasons to do we_

_But please promise me that sometimes you...will... think..._

_Of me!"_

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><p>Christine entered her dressing room with Madame Giry, grinning.<p>

Madame Giry turned to her. "You were lovely tonight, Christine."

Christine smiled, "Thank you."

Madame Giry held out at arms-length a red rose, with a black ribbon tied in a bow around it, "He is proud of you, my dear."

"Madame?"

"Yes?"

Christine swallowed, "H-how do you know? About... my angel?"

Madame Giry did not speak for a moment, she hesitated, "He appears only to those he believes are worthy of it. You should consider it a great honor, his teaching you."

"But who is he? Have you ever seen him?"

Madame Giry's eyes flickered across the room, averting from Christine's, "I must go now. Meg is waiting for me." She left the room promptly.

Christine sat at her vanity, turning the rose in her hand. It was beautiful and fully bloomed. A deep, gorgeous red. The door swung open that moment, and a tall, handsome figure stepped in. He grinned, "Little Lotte."

Christine turned abruptly, her face lit up, "Raoul!"

"It has been so many years." Raoul agreed. "The last thing I remember doing with you is singing. 'The angel of music sings songs in my head'."

"_The angel of music sings songs in my head..." _Christine sung quietly. Her eyes lifted, "Raoul... when my father lay dying. He told me, 'When I am in heaven, child, I will send to you the angel of music'. Well father is dead, Raoul, and I have been visited by the angel of music."

"Oh, no doubt of it." Raoul said. "And now... we'll go to supper."

"Raoul I can't. The angel of music is very strict." Christine insisted.

Raoul laughed, "Well I shan't keep you out late. Two minutes, Little Lotte." He walked towards the door.

"No, Raoul wait-"

The door slammed behind him.

Christine sat back down, feeling ill. She decided to change out of her costume.

A moment later, she came out dressed in her nightdress. When she felt a frigid draft breezing in, and it blew out all the candles. In a moment of alarm, Christine ran towards the door, but it was locked.

_"Insolent boy... this slave of fashion... basking in your glory.."_

It was her angel's voice, harsh and menacing.

_"Ignorant fool this brave young suitor... sharing in my triumph..."_

Christine swallowed, fear swelling inside of her. But this was her angel, one she could always revert to in a moment of need.

She sang, slowly and softly in return:

_"Angel I hear you speak, I listen... stay by my side... guide me.._

_Angel my soul was weak... forgive me... enter at last master..."_

His voice softened, it grew kinder:

_"Flattering child you shall know me... see why in shadow I hide... _

_Look at your face in the mirror... I am there... inside!"_

Mist gathered throughout the room, entrancing Christine as she saw a man appearing in the mirror. He was tall and broad chested, with jet-black hair and a white half-mask on one side of his face.

_"Angel of music! Guide and guardian! Grant to me your glory...!_

_Angel of music, hide no longer! Secret and strange... angel..." _

Christine walked towards the mirror hazily, as if in a dream.

His voice was hypnotizing:

_"I am your angel of music... come to me angel of music..."_

From the other side of the door, Christine heard Raoul banging on the door, "Christine!"

She paid no heed, her angel put out his gloved hand, offering it to her. Hesitantly, she took it. Her hand turned warm to his touch, sending a tingle through her body and she stared at him with fascination. He led her down, down, down until at last they two reached a lake. She stepped into a small boat, and he rowed her across a vast, deep lake.

Soon, they came to a gate. Like magic, the gate began to rise. Exposing a beautiful lair. It was covered in mist and candles, and damp stonewalls. A piano sat on a stone platform just off the side of the lake.

Her angel stepped out of the boat, and walked up to the piano, but never took his eyes off her. His eyes were a mesmerizing green, and he began to sing slowly and gently. His voice truly and pure, one that of an angel:

_"Nighttime sharpens... heightens each sensation... darkness stirs..._

_And wakes imagination... silently the senses... abandon their defenses..."_

He offered Christine his hand, helping her out of the boat. But he kept his grasp on her hand, leading her up small, stone steps.

_"Slowly... gently... night unfurls it's splendor... hear it... feel it.._

_Tremulous and tender... turn your face away... from the garish light of day, turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light..._

_And listen to the music of the night..._

_Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams.. purge your thoughts of the life you new before..._

_Close your eyes, let your spirit start... to soar... And you'll live... as you've never lived... before..."_

His fingers brushed her cheek tenderly, and she closed her eyes, feeling his warm touch on her skin. He turned her so her back was pressing against his chest, the two bodies locked in a perfect sensation.

_"Softly, deftly, music shall caress you ...  
>Feel it, hear it, secretly possess you ...<br>Open up your mind...let your fantasies unwind... in this darkness which you know you cannot fight - the darkness of the music of the night..."_

His hand moved sensually right below her breast, moving towards, caressing her. Down to her thigh... she let out a small sigh, feeling the warm of his body against hers.

He took her hand in his and gently turn her so they were inches apart, facing one another. Christine eyes fluttered open.

_"Let your mind start a journey... through a strange new world!  
>Leave all thoughts... of the world you knew before!<br>Let your soul take you where you... long to be!  
>Only then can you belong to me ..."<br>_

Christine watched him with utter fascination. The two had pulled apart, leaving her with the pleasurable sting of his warmth.

_"Floating, falling, sweet intoxication!  
>Touch me, trust me savor each sensation!<br>Let the dream begin... let your darker side give in  
>to the power of the music that I write - the power of the music of the night ..."<em>

His voice softened to the point of barely a whisper, and he gazed into Christine eyes with a sort of undetectable expression on his face.

_"You alone can make my song take flight - help me make the music of the night . . ."_

A gaze clung between the two, and a ring of silence followed.

Christine's lips parted, as she searched for the right words to say. "I..." Was all she could muster. "That... that was beautiful..." she purred softly.

The man's lips curved upward in a sort of half-smile, his eyes gleamed triumphantly, "You were beautiful tonight, Christine."

"Because you have assisted me," Christine replied modestly.

"I... have admired you for so long now. And I wanted to finally see you... face to face." The man offered kindly.

Christine looked up at him, "Please, what is your name?"

The man looked hesitant to give her a name, but he looked up, "Erik. Erik Destler."

Christine whispered it, "Erik."


	3. Forbidden and Forgotten

**The Wicked**

_{By Rose Diamund}_

**3. Forbidden and Forgotten**

Christine exhaled silently, the gaze that held between them held an uncertain feel, which Christine had never experienced before. Thoughts raced through Christine's mind. Never had anyone ever touched her like that- and she liked it. Especially with him… what could she call him? She had known him since she was a little girl; he was someone to call upon in a moment of desperation. He was an old friend and a complete stranger. But he was one she sought comfort with. She felt a peculiar feeling set at the pit of her stomach. A passion… a foreboding… it was a mix of emotions, which threw her off balance. A voice in Christine's mind kept repeating his name over and over again in a hushed tone, taunting her silently, _Erik… Erik…_

Erik was now sitting at his piano, playing soft tunes. Dazed and mesmerized, Christine walked up behind him. The music swayed her slowly, it was gorgeous. Without thinking, Christine lifted her hand, and rested it on Erik's cheek. His eyes closed for a moment, but he kept playing nonetheless. In a burst of insensible curiosity, Christine lifted her hand and tore the mask forcefully off of Erik.

His hand immediately covered it, and he slashed his arm out, knocking her to the ground with force. Christine cried out in pained, as her shoulder smashed into the hard stone floor.

"_Damn you!"_

Christine's breathing grew heavy as she took in the impact of the fall.

Erik's voice was harsh and brutal:

"_This is what you wanted to see!" _He gestured to his face, one hand still covering it. His voice softened as a sort of grief washed over him.

"_Stranger then you dreamt it, do you even dare to look? _

_Or dare to think of me? This loathsome gargoyle, who burns in hell_

_But secretly…. Yearns for heaven… secretly, secretly…_

_Oh, Christine..."_

Erik gaze fell across Christine, who was supporting herself by her hands, tears cascading down her face.

"_Fear can turn to love, you'll learn to see the man behind the monster…_

_This… repulsive carcass, who seems a beast but secretly dreams of beauty… secretly… secretly…"_

Christine offered Erik his mask. He took it slowly and turned his back and put it on.

Christine swallowed, daring to speak. "You… you are no monster, Erik." She said kindly. "You are…. An angel of music. My angel of music."

She heard Erik sigh, and he turned and shook his head, "My dear, forgive me. I was brutal." He offered her his hand and helped her up to her feet. He smiled, "It is not I who is the angel, Christine. It is you. Forgive me?"

Christine nodded, "There is nothing to forgive, Erik."

Erik studied, "Christine…" He paused. _Damn. _He thought. _How can I look at her, so much above me? Such a woman, I am not worthy to teach. _"I hope you will visit me again… but you will be missed."

Christine did not move for a moment, she knew that she had to go, but something told her to stay. "I am sure they can wait a while. Could… we sing?" She suggested.

Erik smiled, "I would be honored, Mademoiselle." He turned to his piano and took out sheet music.

"_Don Juan Triumphant? _What is that?" Christine inquired.

"A opera, I am writing. It is not finished yet."

Christine looked at Erik for a moment. He seemed to worship her, to love her, and yet she could not place her own feelings. He entranced her, made her crave his touch. But was that love? Exhilaration? She could not say what she felt. Only that she wanted more of it.

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><p>"Christine?" Came the knock at the dressing room door.<p>

"Come in." Christine called from her bed, where she sat lazily, reading a book.

Raoul stepped in, "Christine I did not see you, and I came to get you after I'd order my carriage. But you had locked your door."

"Oh, yes. I'm sorry. I fell asleep. The door sometimes locks on it's own, I suppose I did not hear you." Christine lied.

Raoul nodded. "Is everything… all right, Christine?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes everything is fine. Why, would you think otherwise?" Christine asked innocently.

Raoul shook his head, "Just… you seemed preoccupied."

"It's an interesting book." Christine squeaked. "Anyway, Raoul, could you tell me what time it is?"

"Past eleven o'clock."

"My, my. Well, I'd better get some sleep them. It has been an exciting night." Christine smiled. "Thank you for coming, Raoul. I am sorry to have worried you."

"Not at all."

"Well… then I suppose I'll be seeing you…?"

"Actually, Christine. There is something I'd like to show you." Raoul said.

"Show me?"

"Yes. If you'll please follow me." Raoul replied.

"Raoul, it is late-"

"I won't keep you up for long." Raoul insisted. He took Christine's hand and led her up a flight of stairs. Up to the roof.

Christine stared unbelievingly at the falling snow and the lighted city of Paris below her, causing the night to look as if it were glowing. "It's… so beautiful…" She breathed. Watching in awe at the quiet city, and the diamond snowflakes falling from the dark blue sky. She glanced over as Raoul took her hand in his.

"Christine… I haven't seen you for so long." He said, a tone in his voice, which Christine had never heard before. "I must say that when you left for the opera I was heartbroken… but now, seeing you here, well, it seems as though it is fate…" He stared into her eyes, and his lips twitched up into a smile. "I love you, Christine. I think that I always have."

Christine didn't reply. She couldn't. Watching him now… gradually getting closer and closer to her. She had known him all her life. And didn't she feel a twinge of relief when she saw him earlier today? And now, here he was, standing before her, waiting for her. She loved him, didn't she? She certainly did when she was a child. But that was so many years ago… She felt something inside of her give way, and she stared back at him, eyes gleaming, "I-I love you, too…" She whispered. Christine bent back her head a little as Raoul pressed his lips against hers. She felt him wrap his arm around her waist, and she moved her hand to his chest as the kiss deepened.

Erik stood behind the statue, watching them. God help him because a tear fell down his face as he watched them. Raoul-that bastard- moved his hands across the Christine. Erik gritted his teeth as he saw Raoul… Erik could have lunged then, could've strangled Raoul. But Christine looked so happy with him…

What had he thought? That Christine could love _him? _Him? A beast, a monster. Especially the way he had treated her.

_Such a beauty, one who should leave this damned opera and live happily. Escape all this horror, this sorrow. Break free- away from the man you call your angel, Christine. _

Erik saw the two break apart, desirous looks on both of their faces.

God, what had he thought would happen? He was her angel. That alone. When she had let him touch her… let him caress her he thought that maybe she could love him. But no, he was no match to the Vicomte. No match to a young man with money and power.

More to his grief, the two began to sing, pledging their love.

"_Anywhere you go… let me go to!  
>Love me… that's all I ask of you…"<em>

Again, the Vicomte dipped Christine into a passionate kiss. Erik could not stand it one moment longer; he let his voice ring out, jarring and cruel:

"_Ignorant fools! You've betrayed me!_

_Deceived me with your falsehoods!_

_Try to find… your angel of music… he has gone… now… replaced!"_

He saw an expression of dismay rapidly spread across Christine's face. _"Angel forgive me… hear me plea now… stay by my side… guide me…_

_Angel oh please, do not abhor me… enter once more… master…"_

Erik felt no pity, as once again he sang to her harshly. _"Despairing child try to forget me… attempt to go now and run…_

You_ will regret your choices… when you're left alone!"_

"_Angel of music… guide and guardian! Hear me beg… spare me…_

_Think once again of all we've been through… do not leave… me now…"_

Erik did not reply.

"Angel!" Christine screamed into the darkness. "Erik, please!"

Raoul put his hand on Christine shoulder. "Christine… who's was that voice? Who is Erik?"

"Erik! Please! Hear me!" Christine ignored Raoul, trying desperately to call again her angel. "Please!" When there was still no reply, Christine sunk to the ground, tears streaming down her face. "Please." She whispered wretchedly.

"Christine-"

"Leave, Raoul!" Christine snapped. She covered her face with her hands and cried.

Raoul swallowed and left the roof, leaving Christine to her wretchedness.

"Erik, hear me! I know I have betrayed you! Please come back!" Christine screamed.

Erik stayed behind the statue, tears flooding his own face. But he stayed where he was.

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><p><strong>This chapter was paticuarly difficult to write. Mostly because I made Raoul and Christine get all lovey dovey. *gag*<strong>

**Well, thanks for reading and PLEASE REVIEW!**

_{Rose Diamund}_


	4. Opera Ghost

**Rating: **M or R. I have rated it M because there will be pretty explicit violence in the later chapters. These details may be somewhat bothersome to read, so I will but a warning up on those chapters…

**Author's Note: **I have been so happy with the reviews coming! I hope to get more , but this is a good start so far. A special shout out to Erik'sTrueAngel: Thank you so much for all your support!

Well, here is the next chapter. You know me… I can't make Erik and Christine mad at each other too long … enjoy!

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><p><strong>The Wicked<strong>

_{By Rose Diamund}_

**4. Opera Ghost**

The desolate lair was grim and a certain quality of hatred filled the stale air. Erik sat in the lair, sitting in the darkness. With each passing moment, Erik felt as though he were suffocating. Calling out into the darkness, with no answer. No one to care.

Erik jolted back when he heard a footstep echo through the lair. He heard a sweet voice call into the gloom, "Erik?"

He stayed silent, praying that Christine would leave. He should have known bringing her down to the lair would only grieve him in the end. _Should've known._ Erik should've known so many things. Raoul was bound to love her… especially after he heard her sing.

"Erik, please, I know you are there!" Christine called. "Angel, hear me!"

"_I gave you my music… made your song take wing… and now… how you've repaid me…. Denied me and betrayed me…"_

He heard Christine sob from the other side of the lake, "I know, I know! Please, angel."

"_He was bound to love… when he heard you sing…_

_Christine…" _Tears were flooding Erik's face. In his hand he held one of the roses he had given to Christine.

Thoughts flickered throughout his mind, Christine and Raoul, close in an embrace…

"_You will curse the day you did not do… All that the Phantom asked of you!"_

Erik crushed the rose in his hand, letting the dark red petals fall to the hard stone floor.

"_Angel of music! I denied you… turning from true beauty! _

_Angel of music… my protector… Come to me strange angel…"_

Erik told himself to resist. But here she was… _"I am your angel of music… come to me, Angel of Music…"_

Christine followed his voice toward him, a mesmerized gaze on her face.

It was only when Christine stood inches away from him, Erik came to an uncertain realization. This girl- whatever his feelings may be for her- meant more to him than anything. He was willing to do anything to ensure her happiness. _Anything._

What had just happened? Raoul asked himself. Christine… she had completely collapsed. And who was this 'Erik'? Was he her angel? None of this made any sense. Raoul paced, thinking.

Suddenly, he heard a swishing noise from the other side of the door. Then something was slipped under the door. A letter. Raoul leapt up and picked up the envelope. He shuddered as he saw the seal. It was a red scull, staring back at him with malice and knowing. He broke the seal and took out the envelopes contents.

_Vicomte Raoul DeChagney,_

_Miss Daae is safe, I assure you. But you, I cannot be so sure about. I suggest you leave the Opera Populaire, or at the least steer clear of Miss Daae. She is a rare gem indeed, but you see, Monsieur, everything comes with a price. The price, Monsieur DeChagney, is I. You will not be rid of me so long as you are at Christine's side. You cannot overlook me, Monsieur, for I will always be at Miss Daae's side. There is no escaping. Consider this an amiable warning, but I will not be so kind when you defy me and stay. _

_Farewell, Monsieur DeChagney_

_O.G._

O.G.? Raoul thought, "Opera Ghost." He whispered, his face paling. _That_ was Christine's angel?

Raoul realized that Christine must not know who this man really was. He had to save her from him. And he would.

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><p><strong>Ooh I just had to make Erik threaten Raoul! Yeah, I know. It's a short chapter… but hopefully the next one won't be so short… read on and find out! And please remember REVIEW<strong>

_{Rose Diamund}_


	5. Truth

**A/N: **So, here's the fifth chapter of The Wicked. I hope you guys like it, and _please_ review!

**The Wicked**

_{By Rose Diamund}_

**5. Truth**

Christine's mind raced as she again felt Erik's warm gaze upon her, his eyes zeroing in on her seductively. His eyes taunted her gently, and Christine stared back at him, intrigued. A shiver passed down Christine's spine upon seeing Erik's mindlessly staring, piercing green eyes. Thoughts whirled in and out of her mind, as she thought wildly. Her love for Raoul… it was there, definitely. But then, what was this? This undeniable attraction to Erik she felt, could it be love? Her thoughts became clouded as Erik's hand brushed her arm. He was close, dangerously close. A desperate hunger for passion consumed Christine as felt Erik's touch wander, brushing lightly over her.

* * *

><p>Something was wrong. Raoul knocked once again on Christine's dressing room, before barging in. His eyes wandered about the room. It was empty, and quiet. Where could she be? It was late night. Suddenly saw something. The… mirror? It was open. And it led to a long, cob-web filled corridor…<p>

* * *

><p>Thoughts whirled in and out of Christine's mind, but she was unable to focus…<p>

"Erik…?" She said, breaking the silence.

Erik's green eyes greeted her questioningly, "Christine?"

Christine couldn't find any words, "I… just… wondered…" She stuttered helplessly. Suddenly, words came to her lips, as she turned and faced Erik, her eyes fixing on him, "What… what are you feeling? When we touch…?"

Erik didn't waver a bit, "Christine… the moment I first saw you, I knew that you were the only person I could ever truly love." His expression suddenly turned unsure, "But-forgive me- I'd like to ask you the same question."

Christine's jaw froze, her eyes flickered across Erik's expectant face, "I could not say that I loved you. Not yet, anyhow. But… I also could never say that I didn't."

Erik's eyes gleamed with emotions she could not yet define.

A ring of silence followed, and Christine's words clung to the air, vibrating through Erik's mind over and over.

She was his love. His only love- now and always. And from the peculiar look on her face, the sort of desire and desperation told him all he needed to know.

Christine weighed every thought in her head. Nothing made sense, and a wave of dizziness washed over her. Having him gaze at her with such true longing made her feel… _wanted. _Made her feel useful and not as hopeless as she often felt. Erik was someone who needed her and only her, and whether it was merely the exhilaration of having someone so determined to please her or that she even love him in her heart of hearts, she clasped her hand in his, eyes dancing across his face.

Erik felt the warmth of her hand against his, her soft, smooth skin against his. In a sudden rush of passion, Erik pulled his hand away and moved it to the back of Christine's neck, tilted her forward and moved his lips so that they touched hers.

Her lips stiffened, thoughts flooding into her head so quickly she couldn't detect what her reaction was, and she didn't have time to. Without thinking clearly, Christine wrapped her arms around Erik's back. A thought came to her, which shot all other thoughts from her mind. This felt right.

This was where her heart really lay.


	6. The Son of Satan

**The Wicked**

_{Rose Diamund}_

**6. The Son of Satan**

The sensation the two shared was undeniable. Their lips touched, sending a twinge of warmth throughout Christine's entire body. The kiss deepened, becoming more and more passionate.

_But what next? _Christine asked herself. The thought terrified her, and she pulled away from his embrace, gasping. Her eyes lifted and she looked into Erik's brilliant green eyes. There she saw a flame that had only just ignited, which she had never seen before. It was hungry.

The flame was almost immediately extinguished when he said, "I'm… sorry. I shouldn't have-"

Christine pressed her finger to his lips, silencing him, "No." She whispered. "Don't regret it."

Erik looked somewhat stunned, but not quite as stunned as the man standing just beyond the gate, hiding in the shadows. Raoul watched and his eyes filled with a burning hatred. How could she do this to him? What humiliation… Raoul grimaced and stalked away, determined to win Christine's heart once again, to rid her life entirely of this Erik.

However, the two standing on the small stone platform were not at all filled with the rigid hatred Raoul felt. The two held an entranced gaze between them.

"Christine…" Erik clasped his hand around Christine, "I love you… so much."

Christine was not sure how to reply. She merely smiled a sad little smile, her eyes dancing across his face, searching for his reaction.

But he reacted in the way she had hoped. Bringing her close to him again, their lips touching.

* * *

><p>Meg Giry was faced with a problem. She stared up at her mother, shocked and confused, "What do you mean?"<p>

"Meg… you don't understand."

"You _helped save _the Phantom of the Opera?"

Madame Antoinette Giry scowled, "Don't call him that, Meg. He is no more a Phantom. He has not hurt anybody in a long time."

"He still demands his monthly salary, and we all know what'll happen if he doesn't get it." Meg retorted.

Antoinette sighed exasperatedly, "Erik is a good-"

"Erik? That's his name?"

"Yes, Meg."

Meg cringed, "He's killed people, Mother."

"Meg, you honestly do not understand. He is a kind, good man. You do not know what he has seen- what he has not. He is only a genius, nothing more."

"A madman." Meg insisted. "I can't go down there… I won't."

"Meg, you have to."

"No."

Antoinette threw up her hands, "Don't you see? If Christine is down there-"

"Christine?" Meg asked, suddenly her young face paled. "What-what has Christine to do with any of this?"

"Erik, it seems… is… in love with Mademoiselle Daae." Antoinette replied sheepishly. "He, Meg, is her angel of music."

Meg's voice quivered, "She-She isn't in any… _danger_ is she?"

Madame Giry's lips twitched, "Of course not."

Wasn't she?

* * *

><p>Raoul heard a knock on his door. He stood up and opened it slowly.<p>

Christine stood there, her eyes pleading. "Raoul…"

"Christine. Do you want something?" Raoul asked icily.

Christine swallowed, "Raoul… please… give me a chance to explain-"

"Shouldn't you be with Erik?" Raoul snapped. He looked Christine in the eyes, seeing her shocked expression. "Yes, Christine. I saw you two. Please, go to him." Raoul grimaced, "You lied to me."

"No-"

"No? So you don't love him?" Raoul spat resentfully.

Christine looked to the floor, "I… I do not know whom it is I love. Raoul, you have a place in my heart- but so does Erik. Once you reappear I cannot instantly love you all over again." Christine looked at him, "But I was not lying to you when I kissed you on the roof. I just," She sat on the chair, "I am so lost now. Erik… he intrigues me. He is my angel, and has always stood by me."

Raoul sat next to her, putting his arms over her shoulders, "I know. I'm so sorry I snapped at you, but I did mean what I said, Christine. I love you."

Christine closed her eyes, and covered her face with her hands, "I just don't know what to do anymore."

* * *

><p>In one moment, everything became painfully clear. Erik's stomach churned inside and out as he thought of Christine. His thoughts expanded that maybe, <em>finally <em>she could truly love him. Truly think of him as a man, not a monster.

But as his hopes broadened, it was immediately shot down by more powerful thoughts. Torturous… tormenting…

The shouts and cries of all those men and woman played in his mind:

_You're the son of Satan… The Devil's child… Devil's child…_

"No," He whispered. "She could never love me. Not Satan's son."


	7. What We Must Do For Love

**The Wicked**

_{By Rose Diamund}_

**7. What We Must Do For Love**

The room was filled with an ever-present silence. Then the music began to play softly, but all Christine could hear was her heartbeat drumming in her ears. She watched Erik play. He looked so peaceful as his fingers danced across the keys, bringing to life a gorgeous melody that rung throughout the lair. Christine mind whirled as she read the music and words began flickering in and out of her mind:

"_Who knows when love begins? Who knows what makes it start?_

_One day it's simply there, alive inside your heart…_

_It slips into your thoughts… it infiltrates your soul… it takes you by surprise…_

_Then seizes full control…_

_Try to deny it and try to protest…_

_But love won't let you go…_

…_Once you've been possessed…"_

Her voice rang through Erik mind like… like an angel…

Her eyes fell upon Erik as the next verse popped into her mind:

"_Love… never dies… _

_Love… never falters…_

_Once it has spoken, love is yours…_

_Love never fades… Love never alters…_

_Hearts may be broken… love endures…_

_Hearts may be broken… Love endures…"_

Erik almost immediately looked away and returned his gaze to the piano when he saw Christine looked back at him. The sensation between the two was undeniable. Erik felt a longing, a certain hunger that he hadn't felt, even when they had kissed. Watching her now, singing with her tender, angelic voice and seeing her youthful, rosy face. Her chocolate brown eyes stared back at him as again her voice rang out along with the music in perfect unison:

"_And soon as you submit…. Surrender flesh and bone… That love takes on a life… much bigger than your own…_

_It uses you at whim… and drives you to despair… And forces you to feel, more joy than you can bare…_

_Love gives you pleasure and love brings you pain… and yet… when both are gone… love will still remain…"_

Her eyes flashed across his face seductively, search, yearning for some emotion. All she found was an utter fascination in the music. A passion for the music, but not for her. Christine felt her stomach churn, as she read the sheet music perched on the piano. The words became blurry, but just as the music came to her cue; she began to sing, again in perfect key and on time:

"_Once it has spoken… love is yours…_

_Love never dies… Love never alters…_

_Hearts may get broken… Love endures… Hearts may get broken…_

_Love never dies! Love will continue!"_

The song became more and more intense, and Christine's voice grew higher and stronger. She stared at the back of Erik's head, hoping desperately for Erik to turn around, to see her. To… what? Christie got herself back into control, and again began to sing, now intensely and frantically:

"_Love keeps on beating! When you're gone…_

_Love never dies! Once it is in you…_

_Life may be fleeting! Love lives on!_

_Life may be fleeting! …Love lives on…"_

The last few notes rang in Christine's mind over and over.

Christine let her hand brush Erik's shoulder, she felt him tense under her touch. But then he relaxed, and Christine put her hand on his shoulder entirely. "Erik…"

"That was a wonderful rehearsal, Christine." Erik said averting the subject.

Christine felt her heart hammer up her throat as she tried desperately to think of something-anything-to say. She loved to feel Erik's touch against hers. But whenever she did feel him, her mind raced uncertainly, as if she didn't know what she was doing… what she would do. He had bewitched her utterly, and she could not break free of his trance. But now… seeing him… feeling him… it was a mystery to her. As if she was just a child, who hadn't even held a man's hand before. But Erik had awoken something in her, a passion and hunger for him. A foreboding; but an assurance. As if she could fall into darkness, and still be sure Erik would be there. Always. But then, Raoul was there, too. He always would be there… He always would have a hold on her heart she had felt even as a child. She knew he loved her. That it would break his heart as she left. And wasn't Erik only a stranger? Someone to teach her sing; a guardian. But was that love? Christine's mind whirled, tears flooding to her eyes. But she clawed them back. She couldn't let herself do this again. _Oh God, oh God. _Christine wanted to pull Erik into an embrace. To tell him that her heart belonged to him and only him. But wouldn't that be a lie? At the same time she wanted to run away. Away from Erik and Raoul. Away from the sense that nobody would understand. That either way she went she'd end up heartbroken herself. The room seemed to spin. Christine suddenly felt a wave of dizziness and insecurity surround her, captivating her. "Erik…" She struggled for the right words. "I… I…" Tears suddenly rushed to her face as she saw Erik's expectant glance on her, "I'm so sorry! I… I can't only love you and Raoul and… I'm just sorry!" She ran from the lair, sobbing loudly.

* * *

><p>Erik sat in the cold darkness of the lair; silence his only company. After Christine's outbursts he had cried himself. What had happened with her? What had he done? Oh, God. He knew that Raoul had an impending hold on Christine, but he saw the way she looked at him. He had thought… <em>prayed <em>that Christine could love him. But when he saw her despairing eyes, her tears cascade down her rosy cheeks, he knew that if he could do something like that to her…

"I must be some sort of a monster," He scolded himself bitterly. _She's so much above me. Above everything I stand for. _He thought.

Every second that he felt her against him made him feel as though he were flying. She could soothe all his pains; make him forget himself and all his regrets. Finally, he was at peace when they were together. Finally, he had felt bliss. Christine could make him feel like he never had before. Like he was wanted, needed. When she called him 'her angel', he felt a sensation that was so ridiculous even to himself. He was a monster; he knew that. But Christine could make him feel as though he truly were an angel. As though he were the master of music she had thought him to be.

That was when Erik realized something. Realized what he had to do.

* * *

><p>Raoul sighed inwardly; he glanced at the clock perched in the corner of a room. It read one o'clock AM. Raoul yawned tiredly, and he turned in bed. But when his eyes closed, they also popped open again. All he could think of was Christine. She was everything he had ever wanted. She was beautiful, ambitious, intelligent, and talented.<p>

But something was wrong.

Erik.

Erik was her angel of music, as she put it. It was ridiculous how closely she stuck to him, as if he truly were an angel. But no, Raoul could see what through him. He was hiding in the shadows, behind a mask. He was a coward, but he had Christine under his power.

And there was only one way to free her.

* * *

><p>Erik watched Christine from the other side of the mirror. She cried softly into her pillow, distressed. Her hair was wild, and her eyes red-trimmed.<p>

"_I am your angel of music… come to me… angel of music…"_

Erik sang. His voice was soft and low, and he saw Christine sit bolt upright, fascination written across her face.

"Erik?"

"Come to me, Christine."

"Erik, forgive me…"

Erik took her hand and felt her warm smooth skin. Christine felt heat run throughout her body.

"There is something I need to show you, Christine."

"What is it?"

Erik's eyes gleamed seductively, "Come with me… trust me…"

* * *

><p><strong>DISCLAIMER: <strong>I do not own the song I used 'Love Never Dies' from Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical Love Never Dies.

**A/N: **I hope you liked it! This chapter stumped me... and I had to make it perfect :D. So, please review and tell me what you think!


	8. When All Falls Down

**The Wicked**  
><em>{By Rose Diamund}<em>  
><strong>8. When All Falls Down<strong>

Christine's heart thumped wildly in her chest, and she felt as though it would hammer up her throat. Erik's utter calmness made her anxious, confused. Everything seemed to blur in her vision as the lair once again came into sight. The candles burned triumphantly, welcoming her back down. She felt more relaxed seeing the familiar stonewalls and glossy lake.  
>"Erik, why did you want me to come here?" Christine asked as languidly as she could.<br>Erik's eyes were fixed ahead of him, and he didn't even look at Christine when he answered, "I wanted to make things as they should be."  
><em>As they should be<em>. The words echoed in Christine's mind. What did that mean? "Erik... what do you-"  
>"Sing for me." Erik commanded gently. His voice dripped with tenderness and he stared at her like a lovesick boy. "Please..." He added, reading the distress in her eyes.<br>Christine nodded, "Of course." She replied. "W-what do you want to hear me sing?"  
>"You may choose." Erik gestured to the sheet music lying on his piano.<br>Christine walked over and rummaged through the seemingly endless pile of concertos written by Erik. She came across one which caught her eye, "What is this? 'The point of no return'?"  
>Erik flustered, "Oh, just a song for a opera I am writing."<br>"What is it called?"  
>"'Don Juan Triumphant'." Erik replied quickly. "Now, what will you sing?"<br>Christine shook her head, turning again to the music. She rifled through it, searching for an appropriate song. "'At Last'." Christine said, turning to him.  
>"But that is a duet."<br>Christine's eyes shined, "Exactly. You, Mr. Destler, must sing with me."  
>Erik swallowed then smiled. "As you wish, Mademoiselle Daae."<br>Erik began playing beautiful sounding notes on the piano, and Christine's voice rung out softly at first, then it grew stronger:  
><em>"At last... there are no questions...<br>I know all there is... for me to know...  
>My heart and I have all of the answers... I know how I want...<br>My life to go..."_  
>Her eyes lifted to Erik, who remained consumed in his music. Christine sang more emotionally and her words became full of meaning:<br>_"At last... the must have lifted...  
>It's all so simple... so crystal clear...<br>Why did I fight what was meant to happen?  
>The fighting's over... at last... your here...<em>

_I don't need the sun to make me shine because… I have your eyes…_

_And I don't need the light… for me to see… what's right!"_  
>Erik's voice filled the room, he looked up at Christine now, his voice angelic and low:<br>_"At last there are no questions...  
>You know all there is... for you to know...<br>My heart and I have all the answers...  
>I know how I want... Our lives to go..."<em>  
>Their voices harmonized together in perfect unison. Their eyes met as the song intensified:<br>_"At last! The mist has lifted! It's all so simple!  
>So crystal clear!<br>Why did we fight what was meant to happen?  
>The fighting's over... at last... your here!"<em>  
>The song ended, and their eyes met hypnotically. "I-it's a beautiful song..." Christine stuttered.<br>Erik stared back at her, his eyes entrancing, his voice dripping with sincerity, "You're beautiful." He whispered.  
>Something instinctively drew Christine closer, her lips parted as she breathed heavily. She stared up at Erik, her lips only inches away from his. Erik gradually reached up and took Christine's hand in his, their fingers intertwining. Erik put his free hand on Christine's back, pulling her closer. In a second their lips had melted together, slowly at first, but then more sure. The kiss deepened, grow swifter and more urgent and Erik's hand slowly moved down from Christine's back to her waist. Christine moved her own hand to Erik's chest, feeling his sigh under her palm.<br>"Erik..." Her voice was hardly even a whisper as his mouth crushed against her, giving her only a second to squeak the words out. Her whole body screamed for more, as she felt Erik's body shudder against hers.  
>But something was wrong. There was a twinge of guilt that ignited in the pit of Christine's stomach. One word popped into her mind, making her take a sharp breath in: <em>Raoul.<em> Christine broke away from Erik's embrace.  
>"What is it?" Christine could read the disappointment in Erik's eyes.<br>"I-I just can't..." She whispered, her hands trembling.  
>Erik grasped Christine's hand, "Please... don't you see he's only in love with you for your fame, fortune. Christine, I love you..."<p>

Christine could not reply. She opened her mouth slightly, but no words came out. Her throat suddenly ran dry, and she could not find the strength to speak. She just stared mindlessly back at Erik, a desperate look on her face.

Erik's eyes lowered.

Christine could see the dismay, and she fought with herself on what to do. "Erik..." She choked. She reached out her hand and touched his shoulder gently, "I'm... sorry..." She felt Erik recoil under her. He moved away from her reach and turned around to face her.

"Don't be." Erik's voice cracked like a whip, and she flinched. His voice softened, and behind the fierce anger she saw his misery. "You love Raoul... I am sorry to be such a distraction."

"Erik, please try to understand." Christine pleaded gently. "You are and forever will be my angel... but I... I don't know you. Erik, you are a stranger to me." Christine walked in front of Erik so the two were face-to-face, "Please be my angel," She offered. "Help me through all my troubles, and do not turn away."

Erik sighed and he smiled bitterly, "I could never turn away." He reminded her.

Christine smiled sadly. "Thank you..." She whispered.

For a moment, there was utter silence in the lair. Then Christine looked up at Erik, "Erik?"

"Yes?"

Christine looked a bit unsure, but she did not waver, "Erik... you say you love me..." She stopped short, thinking of what to say next. "Then... Allow me," She said slowly, "to see you. Without your mask." She saw Erik's protests but she cut them off, "Erik, please. I know you are unsure, that you are frightened. Perhaps you have a reason to be. But I know who you are. I have seen Erik Destler not as a monster, but an angel. No deformity could ever change that." Slowly, she reached up her hand. Her fingers grasped the edge of Erik's mask. She felt him tense and she slowly moved the mask forward...

She stared up at him. Red scars and scratches rimmed and cut into one half of his face. Small, uneven red bumps were on the side of his forehead. Christine took in a sharp breath. She let out the breath and looked up at Erik calmly, "It's you..." Was all she said.

Tears rolled down Erik's cheeks as he stared back at her, his mind whirling. Why wasn't she screaming? Why did she not seem at all bothered?

Christine smiled, "Erik... it's you!" She threw her arms around him, suddenly tears streaming her cheeks as she sobbed and laughed at the same time.

Erik just stood there, shocked at Christine's jubilant outburst. He put his arms around her, and felt her bury her head in his shoulder.

* * *

><p><em>Hours later:<em>

Christine stared up at her ceiling. She kept picturing Erik in her mind, over and over again. Had she been right to take off his mask? He didn't seem upset or angry... but he didn't seem himself. Christine thought of how he had said that he loved her. Hadn't she felt something, too? Or was that just some foolish infatuation she felt?

There was a knock on Christine's door suddenly. "Come in." Christine answered, not wanting to get up.

Raoul entered, smiling at her, "Christine."

Christine sat up, "Raoul... what are you doing here?"

Raoul sat next to her on the bed, "I wanted to come and see you. You weren't in your dressing room earlier. Were you with...?"

"Yes." Christine replied flatly.

Raoul nodded, "I see. And what happened?"

Christine thought whether or not she should tell him about the kiss. "I sang."

"Is that all?"

"Yes."

Raoul's eyes were penetrating, "Christine... I know you've been having mixed emotions. I understand... I just need you to realize that I love you completely. I can't stand another day knowing that you are torn between Erik and me. I just need you to say what you feel... because if you love him then do not keep me in such suspense."

Christine swallowed, "I know..." She began, "That it is difficult. Raoul, you mean so much to me. And I cannot bear the thought of ever losing you. But Erik is my angel."

"Christine, he is he phantom of the opera. He has deceived you. Christine, he would kill in a second, without thought. How can you even consider loving such a ruthless man?"

"But you do not know Erik like I do." Christine insisted. "He is kind and honest and gentle... all he wants is to have someone to love him for who he is. That's all he ever wanted."

"And that is innocent enough," Raoul agreed. "But he has killed people. He will kill more, I am sure of it." He took Christine's hand suddenly, "Christine, be free of him. Come with me... let us live out our lives together. Leave Erik behind..."

Christine sighed shakily, "I just do not think I would be able to do such a thing." She said. "I couldn't leave Erik. I just couldn't..."

Raoul put his arm around Christine's shoulders, "Not long ago you were able to say you loved me... why can you not say it now?"

Christine closed her eyes, hot tears flooding down her face. "Please..." was all she could muster.

"Yes, I'll leave you now." Raoul stood. "But Christine, please think about what you're doing when you deny me." With that, Raoul left the room.

* * *

><p>"I've seen him, I tell you!" Joseph Boquet cried. "Skin as yellow as parchment... beady black eyes like a skinless skull... Oh, and his noise... he has no nose!"<p>

"That is quite enough!" Andre shouted. "I will not have you going around telling these idiotic falsehoods and frightening our ballerinas to death! The Phantom of the Opera does not _exist!" _

Joseph smiled wickedly, "Ah, but Monsieur, you are so wrong. He's here... maybe watching you at this very moment. I've seen him Monsieur, heed me-"

"Silence!" Madame Giry interrupted, her eyes cut into Joseph like razors as she stared at him with utter hatred. "I will not tolerate such foolish behavior. Monsieur Boquet, I warn you. Those who speak of what they know will soon find much too late that silence is wiser."

Richard looked at Madame Giry for a moment, startled by her sincerity. Her turned back to Joseph, "You cannot go around. Do you see how distress our chorus girls?"

"Forgive me, Monsieur Andre and Richard. Madame Giry," Joseph bowed his head in slight respect, "But he is here. I am only telling the ballerinas the truth because they ask me for it-"

"You are most certainly not telling the truth." Madame Giry said through gritted teeth.

Joseph sneered, "I suggest you watch yourself, Madame. The Phantom will come and get you!"

"_Enough!" _Andre cried. He turned to Joseph, "It is all very simple. If you stop this nonsense and stay silent and do your job, you will stay here at the opera. If you do not, I am afraid you must be dismissed."

"Of course, Monsieur." Joseph said; a lopsided grin plastered across his face. He walked away.

"Troublemaker, that one." Richard reported. "We'll have to keep an eye out."

"I do not see why you do not just dismiss the man." Madame Giry snapped angrily. "He is a drunkard, never at his post. He is an ignorant man, Monsieur's and he should not be incorporated in the opera."

"I don't see why you detest Boquet so. Perhaps he is a lot to deal with but he is not a bad man." Richard countered.

"He is an ass and I want his gone from this opera." Madame Giry insisted.

"Antoinette, please-"

"No." Madame Giry pivoted on her heel and walked away from the two opera owners.

Andre looked over at Richard, "Well, _that _went well."

* * *

><p>Christine woke up by the banging on her door. "C-come-" Before she could finish her sentence the door swung open and Meg ran in, her face flushed.<p>

"Meg? What is it?" Christine asked, suddenly alarmed.

Tears were staining Meg's cheeks and she pulled Christine out of bed quickly, "Come... oh, God!" Meg ran out of the room, Christine at her heels.

The two came to the stage. Meg ran backstage and came to a small confined area where the scenery was.

"What is-" Christine's voice trailed off when she saw something. A...

Christine screamed, shrill and high pitched when she saw it.

Joseph Boquet's body was unmoving and lifeless. Crimson blood dripped from his chest and neck, and his eyes were open, staring up at the ceiling. His throat was almost completely cut open, and much to Christine's terror she could see his torn flesh, even some of the neck bone.

"W-who-" Christine stopped. She knew who had done this.

Tears streamed her cheeks and she turned away from the body, agony flooding over her. "No!" She screamed, burying her head into Meg, "Oh, God. No!"

"I-I'll go and get help..." Meg said shakily. She ran off.

Christine suddenly felt something ignite inside her. She screamed in rage and ran to her dressing room. Slamming open the mirror, she ran inside. Down and down... until she reached...

"ERIK!" She screamed, sobbing.

Erik appeared. As the gate slid up, Christine ran to him. Her small fists pounded against him as she cried. Finally she practically fell over, but Erik caught her. "How could you do that?" She asked. "How... could you kill someone?"

"Christine, what are you talking about?" Erik asked urgently.

Christine's voice was choked with sobs; she pushed away from Erik. "No." She snapped.

"Christine-"

"NO!" Christine backed away a few steps. "How DARE you? After all you told me! It was all a lie, wasn't it? You seemed so compassionate, so kind! I put my whole life in shambles because I thought I might find some way to love you. To find true happiness! But it was all a damned lie!"

"No… Christine I did-"

"You-your insane!" Christine ran from the lair, her heart pounding against her ears.

"Christine!" She heard Erik called behind her, but she didn't turn back. She kept running.

A moment later, when she had reached the stone steps she felt powerful hands grab her shoulders and whirl her around. She struggled against Erik, screaming and crying.

"Listen to me!" He cried, "I never killed anybody!"

"You're lying." She exclaimed. "You're lying!"

"Christine, do you really think I would do that?"

Christine stopped struggling for a moment, she looked into Erik's eyes. "Yes." She said simply.

Erik shook her vigorously, "You-you don't really believe that."

"Get away from me!" Christine screamed. Without a second thought, she kicked Erik forcefully in the groin, making him free her of his grasp as he winced in pain.

Christine ran back up to her dressing room, her vision blurred with tears.

"Christine?"

Christine turned sharply and saw Raoul sitting on her bed.

"R-Raoul…" She said nervously. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to see if you were alright. Meg told me about Joseph Boquet… I'm so sorry, Christine." Raoul replied sympathetically.

More tears fell down her cheeks, "Raoul… I just can't believe he would…" Her voice trailed off.

Raoul pulled her into a tight embrace, "I know. I'm sorry." He looked at Christine, "But Christine… I meant all I said earlier. Come with me. Live a happy life without him. Don't you see? I love you… and I need you to love me."

Christine stared at the floor, not replying. Everything felt wrong… yet it felt right. Raoul loved her, she could tell that he meant it sincerely. And Erik… he wasn't who she thought he was. Suddenly she looked at Raoul, her eyes filled with determination and pain, "Yes." She said. "I-I'll marry you."

Despite the slight bitterness in her voice, Raoul smiled triumphantly. "Christine, I love you."

"I… I love you, too, Raoul." Christine said.

Raoul reached into his pocket and pulled out a diamond ring. One large diamond in the center of the silver ring, and many small ones circling it. He took Christine's hand and slid it on slowly.

He put his hand on her cheek and wiped off her tears, "It's all right," He cooed. "I'm here…"

* * *

><p>Raoul smiled wickedly to himself. He sat in his own room, a piece of parchment in his hand. He sneered at Erik's letter to him. Which read:<p>

_Vicomte,_

_I know what you did. I know who you really are. Perhaps you have fooled Christine, but you cannot fool me. You may blame the murder of Joseph Boquet on me, but both of us know who really killed him. I am warning you, Vicomte, do not play games with me. Perhaps you have Christine now, but I have not even begun to fight. To save your own skin like the coward you are, I suggest you confess to Joseph's murder and be sent to prison. Prison would be much better for you than if you stay at my opera. I promise you that. _

_So sleep Vicomte. Remain the rich, conceited man you always were. But I swear to you, I will find you. _

_Watch your step, Vicomte. _

_I remain your obedient, _

_O.G._

Raoul sneered. Erik was only playing games. And Raoul had many more tricks up his sleeve. He grinned as he moved to his desk and got a piece of paper. He wrote:

_Monsieur Andre and Richard, _

_The tragedy of Joseph Boquet's death had made me determined to catch this 'Phantom of the Opera'. I've found him, Monsieur's. And I believe you might want to send people down to end his treachery once and for all…_

* * *

><p>Meg knew something was wrong. Raoul seemed… too happy. Yes, he and Christine were engaged… but something was different about him. Something sinister that frightened Meg.<p>

"Meg, we're on," Christine nudged Meg.

"Oh," Meg snapped back into reality and the two rushed out onstage with the rest of the chorus girls.

When the dance had finished, Meg turned to Christine, "Does Raoul seem different at all to you?"

Christie shrugged, "Should he?"

"I just…" Meg looked at Christine. "You did see Erik yesterday, didn't you?"

Christine's eyes widened, "Y-you know about Erik?"

"Yes. Didn't he tell you? When he was put in the freak show as a child mother helped him escape… and brought him to the opera."

"H-he was put in a f-freak show?"

"They tortured him. Called him the Devil's child. I'm just glad he finally has someone like you to bring him some bliss."

Christine swallowed, "Meg…"

"Oh my God. It's because of Joseph Boquet." Meg saw Christine nod. Meg gasped, "You do honestly think he did that?"

"Who else?"

"Mother has known him for a long time Christine. Since he was a boy. He has problems… but he wouldn't… he didn't…" Meg sounded so sure that Christine raised her eyebrow.

"Meg… who do you think killed him?" Christine asked.

Meg tucked a long strand of blonde hair behind her ear, she shrugged, "I don't know. But it wasn't Erik."

Christine turned away. Meg sighed, "Don't you see Christine? He loved you. He saw that you doubted him… so why would he kill someone to encourage you to leave him? He is a good man, despite all the horrible experiences. I cannot abide to think you'd actually leave him again. You do love him, don't you?"

Christine didn't look Meg in the eye, "Why do you say such things?" She said angrily. "I couldn't never love him… never."

Meg looked down at the floor, then back up at Christine. "Then you are not the sweet girl I have always imagined you to be. You are heartless, Christine. Blind."

"Why should you care so much?" Christine countered. "You haven't met him!"

"Ye-" Meg stopped herself, shutting her mouth tightly.

"What?" Christine snapped.

Meg shook her head, "Nothing… I misspoke."

Christine groaned angrily and stalked away.

Meg felt tears prick her eyes, but she clawed them back. In a rush of a peculiar determination, Meg ran. She ran down, where she knew the lair was.

"Erik!" She called.

She saw Erik appear. He looked bewildered, "Meg?" He whispered. "What are you doing here?"

"You didn't kill him… you couldn't have…" Meg said quickly.

"No, of course I didn't."

"Erik, let me in."

The gate ascended slowly. Meg walked in and went up to Erik, "Tell me what's happened."

Erik was silent a moment. "Raoul… he killed Boquet I know he did."

"That does not sound like the Vicomte." Meg frowned. She turned to him, "Erik, I'm frightened. Something bad is happening… very bad… Christine- I hardly recognize her anymore. And you, your so different. Perhaps in a good way."

"Meg… There is something I need to speak with you about."

* * *

><p>Christine felt wrong… Everything felt wrong now. She felt dizzy, intoxicated. Had Meg met Erik? What was this about a freak show Erik was sent to? Finally, everything had felt right. But then Joseph Boquet was murdered and everything fell out of place.<p>

Earlier that evening, she had received a letter from Monsieur Andre, telling her that her she would perform the following night. Now, Christine felt as though she could never sing again. Every time she sang, she thought of Erik. He had brought her here… she had been so sure that he was a good man…

Could Meg be right? He had seemed to be so compassionate, and suddenly he just murdered someone? It didn't make sense. Christine frowned, thinking on it.

No, something was wrong. Something had happened…

And Christine was intent on finding out what it was.

* * *

><p><strong>Crap, I just needed to add in so much drama. Chapter 9 to come soon...?<strong>

**I hope you review and tell me what you thought!**

**{_Rose Diamund}_**


	9. At An End

**The Wicked**

_{By Rose Diamund}_

**9. At An End…**

All of Paris was buzzing with the news of Joseph Boquet's barbaric murder. The opera had suddenly become much more popular when the news of the mysterious phantom of the opera came out. Christine could hear the busy crowds chatter as they exited and entered the opera.

"There'll be another murder yet," A tall, scrawny man was saying to a young woman as he put his sleek black top hat on. "With the Phantom's obsession with Christine, he'll kill anybody 'till he can have her."

Christine's stomach did a flip turn. Was that what people were saying? That the phantom of the opera was obsessed with her?

The man spoke again, "And say there is another murder. I'd bet anything that next'll be that Vicomte, what's his name. He's Christine's fiancée. I'm sure the phantom doesn't like that."

The young woman nodded, "Just isn't safe here in this opera," She said in a thick cockney accent. "Someone outta do somethin' 'bout this phantom. Whole staff'll be dead, they don't watch out."

Christie felt as though she were going to be sick. She felt a small tap on her back, "Miss Daae?"

Christine turned to see a girl, only nine or ten years of age staring up at her. Christine mustered a kind smile, "Yes, dear?"

"Is it true… you're performing tonight? Giving all that's happened…"

A little girl of this age knew about the phantom? Christine shivered, but smiled back at the girl, "Yes, sweetheart. I'll be singing tonight."

A wide smile spread across the girl's face. She turned around and ran off to who Christine suspected to be her mother.

Christine ran to her dressing room and threw open the door. She flopped down on the bed, suddenly bursting into tears. Why had all this happened? Everything felt wrong. Christine stared down at the diamond ring Raoul had given her. It was so beautiful…

"Christine?" The knock on the door came.

Christine wiped tears from her eyes, "Who is it?"

"Raoul."

"Oh, come in, Raoul." Christine said flatly.

The door squeaked open and Raoul walked over to Christine, "Are you all right?" When Christine did not answer, he sat next to her on the bed. "If you do not wish to perform tonight, you can just rest. I wouldn't want to over work you."

"No," Christine said quickly. "I want to perform."

Raoul nodded, "I figured it would remind you of Erik."

Christine swallowed, "It's the only thing that doesn't."

"Oh?"

"When I sing," Christine explained, her voice cracking, "It's only me. Nobody else is there or listening or even playing the music. I'm the only one standing in the room, the only one in the world."

Raoul took Christine's hand, "My darling, music gives you bliss that I can only envy. I could never experience such happiness. I know the distress you have been through lately… especially now. But we are starting a new life together. We can make it through anything, so long as you tell me everything." He eyed her, "But… I cannot help but think –forgive me, if I am mistaken—that there is something you are not telling me. Christine, I can never help you if you do not tell me what it is you're not."

Christine sighed shakily. She looked up at Raoul and shook her head slowly, "I… I have told you everything Raoul…"

Raoul looked down, obviously not deceived, "Christine…"

"He said… that he didn't kill Joseph Boquet." Christine replied quickly. She shook her head, "Perhaps I am childish, foolish. But… I feel as though I… I want to believe him."

Raoul seem undisturbed. "Christine he is a madman. He is in love with you and he would tell you anything so long that you would return to him. He is completely insane. You cannot listen to him, Christine. Free yourself of him. Leave him behind. Do not second guess what you already know."

"But do I know? Couldn't someone else-"

"Why? Joseph Boquet was a stagehand. Yes, he was a bastard but that is no reason to kill him. He went around telling everybody he had seen the Phantom. Erik must not have liked that."

"But I heard Joseph Boquet speaking. He said he saw Erik mask less, but his description of Erik did not match what he really looked like. He was lying, Raoul. Erik had no reason to-"

"You saw him without his mask?" Raoul asked, suddenly alarmed.

Christine nodded, "Yes. Why-?"

"Christine… when was that last time you saw Erik?"

"Not long ago. Why?"

Raoul shook his head, "Never mind… I-I must go. I will see you after your performance."

"Raoul-!" The door slammed shut.

Christine sighed and sat back down on the bed.

* * *

><p>Erik's thoughts of Christine lingered. She had bewitched him, and despite her hatred for him now, he could not stop himself from wanting to go up to her dressing room and at last show her how much he truly needed her. She had shown him that he wasn't a monster. She had awoken true happiness in him, and no matter what the Vicomte did, he could not change that. He knew that somehow, no matter how minimal it may have been, Christine felt something for him. Perhaps it was merely infatuations and curiosity. But then… it could be more than that, couldn't it?<p>

Erik needed to see her, at least once more. Suddenly a thought occurred to him. If he ever came to see her, she'd run away. But what if he went to see her when she couldn't run away…?

* * *

><p>The last note lingered on, as the music erupted and finally came to a finish. Christine breathed out heavily, her heart pounding against her chest and the audience burst into applause. She smiled and curtsied as the audience threw flowers onstage.<p>

Her heartbeat slowed as her breath caught up with her. She looked up at box seven, seeing Raoul with a triumphant grin on his face.

"_Brava…"_

A voice louder than any other rang throughout the large room and echoed off the walls. The whole room turned silent.

_No, no, not now… Not now… _Christine squeezed her eyes closed. She felt as though she was going to be sick.

The voice rang out once again, _"Why so silent? Did you believe I had left?"_

Christine now heard whispers, she could make out some peoples whispers. "The _Phantom. _He's here… he's come back for Christine…"

Christine heard sudden gasps from the audience and she turned around. Her throat tightened and her heart stopped beating. It was _Erik. _Standing right in front of her.

Her voice hardly audible, she spoke to Erik, "W-what a-are you d-doing-?"

"My dear, did you think I would leave you?" Erik whispered back. Nobody could hear him except for Christine.

"Erik, _go. _Th-they'll try and k-kill you."

Erik voice was filled with bitterness, "Perhaps it would be best, would it not? I suspect you'd help them-"

"How can you _say_ that?" Christine replied with hostility.

Erik smiled a spiteful little smile, "My sweet Christine, I say that because of your… forcefulness yesterday. But no, I did not come here to quarrel with you."

"_Then what did you come here for?"_ Christine hissed.

"I wanted to ask you… perhaps to prove to both you and myself…" Christine had never seen Erik stutter like this. He seemed unsure of himself, anxious. He looked at Christine, "I needed to show you that I am not the monster you take me for, nor am I a murderer."

Christine laughed shortly and resentfully, "I assure you, Monsieur Destler, that is not possible. Perhaps you are too frightened to admit it to yourself, but you are a killer. You should leave before somebody gets hurt."

"But you see, Mademoiselle, people are already hurt." As Christine turned to walk offstage, Erik grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

"Erik-" Christine stopped when she saw the sincerity in Erik's eyes. Something mesmerized her as silence filled the room.

Erik freed her of his grip, and his soft voice rang throughout the room. In a song Christine had never heard before:

"_Loving you keeps me alive…_

_Think again before you leave me…_

_His love cannot be as true… as the love I offer you…_

_Your wasting time pretending you belong with him…_

_Come to your senses…"_

Christine's eyes lifted to box seven, where the smile had disappeared off Raoul's face and now hatred lay in its place. She felt an overwhelming sensation as she heard Erik's tender voice once more:

"_Loving you keeps me alive… I'll be in your heart forever…_

_And you'll be a part of me…_

_From now, 'till eternity… You've talked yourself into believing he's the one…_

_Such wild pretenses…"_

Christine's eyes closed, as the whole world seemed to evaporate away.

"_The first time I set eyes on you… I knew I'd never be the same…_

_I never knew I'd get such pleasure… whispering your name…_

_If loving you keeps me alive, then how can leaving me be right?_

_Turn back and let me love you… stay with me and let us dance into the night…_

_You are the one… the only one, to make me see the empty life I lead…_

_You are the love… the only love… I'll ever need…"_

Christine swallowed, feeling her throat tightened. Tears rolled down her cheeks, _Oh, God. _This was a so beautiful… she meant so much to him, and she had left him behind… Could he have killed someone? The thought sounded more and more foolish as she thought harder. Everything seemed wrong now…

"_The first time I set eyes on you… I knew I'd never be the same…_

_I never knew I'd get such pleasure, whispering your name…_

_If loving you keeps me alive then how can leaving me be right?_

_Turn back and let me love you… stay with me and let us dance into the night!"_

Tears were flooding down Christine's face, and despite herself, she threw her arms around Erik, exploding into an embrace.

The audience watched in shock.

"Erik… we have to leave…" Christine whispered urgently.

Suddenly, excitement burst out in the audience. Cries and pleas suddenly rang out. To Christine's horror, she heard one voice above all, "That's the murderer of Joseph Boquet! The Phantom of the Opera! _Kill_ him!" Raoul was screaming.

"Erik!" Christine shouted above the chaos.

Erik searched around the room, desperately looking for… something. Then he saw it… "Christine," He said urgently, "You need to go to Raoul. Say… that I threatened you, all right?"

"Erik-"

"Just go!" Erik yelled. When Christine didn't move, he groaned. "Forgive me," He muttered to her. With one effortless move, he picked Christine up and raced off the stage.

Soon enough, the two were at Joseph Boquet's old post. Where all the ropes for the scenery were.

"Erik, what are we-"

"Shh." Erik studied to chaotic audience below, everybody searching and screaming.

It took hours until everybody had left. Most of the workers at the opera were still on the hunt for Erik.

Christine closed her eyes, thoughts flooding to her unwillingly. Being with Erik now… it felt right. And yet, it didn't. There was something strange. Perhaps with Erik or Raoul, maybe even herself. Christine couldn't help but feel unsure. As if…

No, she couldn't be thinking like this. She couldn't keep on choosing one path and then the other, switching between the two.

She needed to make a choice.

* * *

><p>Raoul gritted his teeth. He couldn't find Christine anywhere. Of course, he knew whom she was with… but where? Anger washed over him as he thought on it more and more. Christine couldn't allow herself to be bewitched by this man any longer. He'd taken drastic measures before. And he'd have to take drastic measures once again.<p>

"Monsieur DeChagney!" Came a call from the other side of the door.

Raoul stood and opened the door, "Ah, Monsieur Richard. Have you found him yet?"

"Alas, Vicomte. There is no sign of him or Mademoiselle Daae. I am sorry." Richard said regretfully.

"Damn!" Raoul cried. His voice grew harsh and determined, "Yes. Yes, you need to find him. Go, do whatever you have to." When he saw Richard's uncertainty he growled angrily, "Go!"

Richard left.

Raoul sighed and sat down on his bed, his head in hands. Soon, there was a soft knocking on the door.

Raoul groaned and he flung the door open. When he saw the familiar brown eyes staring back at him, he rasped, "Christine." He moved out of the way so that she could enter the room. "Where were you?" He inquired.

Christine remained silent for a moment, but then looked up at Raoul, "I was with Erik."

It only took those four words to ignite a flame of fury inside the pit of Raoul's stomach. He grabbed Christine's shoulders with his strong hands and shook her vigorously, "What do I have to do to make you see? The man is a _murderer. _He is a monster and yet you still go to him."

"You're hurting me." Christine winced, trying to pry Raoul's powerful hands from her shoulders.

Raoul pulled his hands away and grabbed Christine's left hand forcefully, "Do you see this ring?" He gestured to the diamond ring place gorgeously on her ring finger. "This is a symbol of our engagement, Christine. It means we love each other. And still, you defy me, defy all you know is right and go to see this man… this _freak."_

Christine jerked her hand away, "Raoul, he is my angel. I have known him since I was a child and he only a young man. Despite what you may think, he is no killer. I trust him utterly."

"And you think that prudent?" Raoul insisted, "What has he done to prove to you that he is not capable of such things?"

"I know he is capable of it." Christine countered. "However, I believe that he had no means to kill Monsieur Boquet. And how can you be so sure he did this? You have been so insistent of him being the murderer, you have done all in your power to turn me against Erik. Why do you do this?"

"Because he is guilty and yet you cling onto him as if he is your only salvation."

Christine's eyes glimmered with sincerity, "Perhaps he is."

"And now? Will you leave me for him? Christine, just admit it, you know nothing of this man. Yes, he is an Angel to you. He is your Angel. I see that. But Christine," He took Christine's hands. Gently, this time, "I love you, and you say that you love me in return. We have created a life, where we can be happy. Where there is no darkness and terror. And still you seem hesitant. Why?"

Christine looked up at Raoul pleadingly, "_Because_ he is my Angel, Raoul. He is more than just a man who has watched me all my life at the opera. He is a guardian who loves me. Perhaps I cannot return his love fully, but he will always have a place in my heart. And I cannot deny him what he is entitled to. I cannot turn away from him. Maybe he is a murderer. Maybe I should hate him, run from him. But I can't. He has a hold on me, which is too strong to defy. He communicates with me—connects with me—through music. Music is my passion. It is my weakness, you could say. Without him and his music, a half of my heart would hollow, Raoul. Without him, I feel blind."

Raoul's eyes closed and he sighed deeply, "I don't understand how he can have such a powerful hold on you, Christine. I don't know why you cannot look away. Christine, I have known you for so long and yet now I look at you and see nothing but a stranger. You are everything I have ever wanted in a wife, and you say that you love me in return. I had hopes and dreams of us, starting a life together. But you are stopped by a man whose name you only just learned. But I love you, and I am willing to do anything so long as you are happy. Just promise me you will not leave me for him."

When Christine did not reply, but stared at the floor with vacant eyes, Raoul began to shake with anger. "Christine!" He cried.

Christine looked up, tears welling her eyes, "I'm sorry…" She said. _"I'm so sorry…"_

Raoul stepped back, "Something has _possessed you._ He has infatuated you. And now… you're under his utter control!"

"No, Raoul please—"

Raoul put up his hands, "I—I don't want to hear it! Christine, I think you should leave."

A single tear slid down Christine's face, "Raoul… I am not—"

"Please, leave." Raoul cut her off.

Christine nodded slowly; she turned to leave the room. However, she could have sworn that she heard Raoul's hostile mutter, "I'll find you, Erik."

* * *

><p>Erik felt exhilarated. Never before had he felt this way… it was peculiar. It bewildered him as excitement set in. He never felt so… right.<p>

"Erik?" Christine's sweet voice rang out the lair.

He lunged toward the brass lever and pulled it forward, allowing Christine to enter.

"Something ails you…?" Erik asked worriedly.

Christine shook her head, words unable to come out. She just stared at Erik stupidly, trying unrelentingly to decipher her feelings when she looked at him. She needed to make a decision now. Erik looked so worried for her. He cared about her so much, loved her. Could she…?

"I have realized something," She said without thinking, voice suddenly coming to her. "I cannot go on like this, between Raoul and you. Loving one of you, and sending the other to despair. I must make a decision. And… I believe that I have made the right one."

Erik's voice was dripping with worry, "And?"

Christine hesitated. "I…" Suddenly she found strength, looking into Erik's eyes she felt confident. She felt sure of herself. "Perhaps I'm foolish, for being so naïve. But I have decided…" Something held Christine back for a moment. Could she loose Raoul? Would it be worth it to stay with Erik? What if he was ruthless, the way Raoul took him to be? Or, was that what love was? Always having to forgive, and despite whatever the other may do, you cannot help but forgive again and again. That nothing else matters, so long as you have that person beside you. And didn't she long for Erik beside her, always? She sighed and she looked up at Erik, "I need you."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **So yes, all you E/C fans, they're together... for now... *smile*. Anyways, hope you liked it and please tell me what you think. I also wanted to make a shout out to my anonymous reader(s), I hope anybody without an account will review, and to those of you who already are... thanks! :D

I will have lots of fun in future chapters... putting Raoul through torture... :)


	10. When Words Run Dry

**The Wicked**

**10. When Words Run Dry**

Their eyes were locked in a gaze that held and seemed as if it would hold forever. Christine's voice was barely a whisper as she repeated her words, "I need you."

Erik's expression said all Christine needed to know. The astonishment in his smoky green eyes, and yet the seductive pull he had on her was still there, gripping her more forcefully than ever. The moments passed by silently, as Christine's words clung to the air.

Suddenly, Erik took a sharp breath in and he looked up at

Christine, "Christine…" There was something in his voice that was unfamiliar to Christine. Some sort of dubiousness, perhaps even fright? He sounded so uncertain, "I don't…" He sighed shakily, but when he spoke once again his voice sounded more sure and confident, "I love you… so much."

Christine smiled, "I love you, too, Erik."

The two were standing only inches apart now, and Erik reached up his hand slowly, having it brush Christine's cheek. "You're so beautiful…"

He breathed. "So delicate." Christine's eyes fluttered close at the familiar sensation of his touch, breathing silently. "My angel…" Erik whispered to her, causing her heart to skip a beat. It had been so long—too long—since Erik had truly felt right. But now, Christine beside him, wanting him, needing him. Everything else in the world seemed to melt away. It was only Christine and he together.

Christine heard nothing but Erik's voice. She felt nothing except his touch. Her eyes opened gently, only focusing on him. Watching him now, feeling his tender touch… everything felt so right. She saw that

Erik was close. Only inches away. Slowly closing in…

Their lips met. A tingling sensation ran through all of Christine's body as she felt Erik's heated touch. His hand skidded gently from

Christine's back, to her waist. Christine's eyes closed again, she felt as though her whole body had been set on fire…

Tenderly, Erik pulled away. His eyes cast upon her.

Christine's eyes opened and she stared back at him, her body still tingling.

"_Christine, I love… you…_" Erik sang softly and gently. He pulled

Christine toward him, their eyes locked. The two were touching now, and Erik put his forehead against Christine's. His voice hushed, he said, "You are an Angel, Christine, above me in every conceivable way.

And still you love me."

"Love hasn't any limits, my darling," Christine whispered back. She felt fevered to his touch, feeling his hot breath on her neck. She took a deep breath and sighed out, her eyes closing slightly, "My love…"

* * *

><p>Meg watched him scornfully from where she stood backstage, staring at Raoul. The rehearsal played on merrily, and when it came time for Meg and the rest of the chorus girls to glide out on the stage, she did so. She glanced over at Christine, who was dancing only a few feet away. Christine did not notice Meg watching her.<p>

Meg thought of Erik, and how shocked she had acted when he mother told her about the 'phantom of the opera'. What Madame Giry didn't know, is that Meg knew all too well who Erik was. She had seen Erik before, found him. Meg had thought she could forget about Erik. That she could lock away all the secrets and lies. But then Christine had come…

It had all gone wrong from there. Meg had never had any intention of going back to that dismal lair, until she had seen Joseph Boquet's body. She shuddered at the thought of the man she had once known—a swine, really. Only a drunkard with a dull sense of humor—so motionless. He had looked so grey. But his neck had been dripping with a crimson blood. His throat had been cut open from behind, revealing much of his neck bone. His eyes had been wide open and alert, as if he were seeing everything and nothing. Meg still saw him, his dark eyes…

She felt as if they had been watching her. So filled with terror. So icy…

Meg tried to shake the memory away, sighing shortly. Now, she focused on the dance.

* * *

><p>Raoul felt Meg's eyes on him. Her scornful glare. The poor girl truly hated Raoul, didn't she? Raoul merely smirked. Although it was a bit startling to see such a gentle creature as Meg Giry so… threatening.<p>

Still, Raoul had never liked Meg. She always seemed too pure. Too kind. There must have been something she was hiding.

Forgetting Meg, Raoul furthered his gaze to Christine. She was still a child in so many different ways. She was so pure and innocent, ignorant of all of the hatred in the world. That was why she could not leave Erik. She didn't _know _what he was truly capable of.

She didn't know what Raoul was truly capable of.

Raoul sighed. The poor girl was once again under the power of the Phantom of the Opera. She was once again lured by his mysterious power of seduction.

Despite himself, Raoul grinned. Erik was captivating to Christine. He could hold her, but that couldn't last for that long. Could it?

No.

Not so long as Raoul had a breath left in him.

* * *

><p>"<em>Erik?" <em>Meg hissed.

She heard the water from the other side of the lair splashing, and soon Erik came into vision.

"Meg?" He asked. He pulled the brass lever and the iron gate began to ascend. "What are you doing here?"

"Christine… she has come to see you?"

"Did you see her last performance?"

Meg nodded. But she sighed, "That was a foolish thing to do, Erik. You could've gotten yourself killed."

"And I expect you were disappointed to find I was not slaughtered," Erik countered, his eyes cutting into Meg.

"Ah, and you seemed so calm the other day when I came to see you." Meg returned.

Erik scowled, "Do you need something?"

Meg stared back at him for a moment, not saying a word. "I have noticed something, Erik." She said coolly. "The man I ran from all those months ago and tried to forget was the Phantom, was he not? However… I have seen a… change in you. And I suspect it was just after you met Miss Daae?" Erik's eyes did not meet Meg's. "You love her, don't you?" Meg challenged.

Erik looked up, "Of course I do, Meg."

* * *

><p>Christine stared at the ceiling, thinking only of Erik. Earlier that evening… everything had been perfect. Christine pulled the blankets farther around her, suddenly cold. What would Raoul think? Didn't he still mean something to her? But… she had never felt like <em>this <em>towards Raoul, had she? No, this was new… this was… right.

Christine jolted as a knock on the door sounded.

"C-come in." She stuttered.

The door pushed open and in came a familiar figure.

"Raoul, what are you doing-?"  
>"Tell me that it is not true, Christine." Raoul interrupted. "You are still my fiancée, are you not?"<p>

Christine took in a sharp breath, "Raoul… I care for you. Very much. But… I don't love you. I love Erik."

"After all he's _done?" _Raoul cried. "Christine, do not allow yourself to be so possessed as you are!"

"Raoul he has not possessed me. I love Erik." Christine said calmly. She sighed, "Raoul... I care for you. And I want to make things right with you—"

Raoul shook his head, "You're a fool. You'll see that Erik is a murderer. That he is so ruthless and vile… but it will be too late. You are ruining your own life Christine. Allowing this man—this monster to rule over you. You should run away now. Free yourself of this."

"I cannot do that!" Christine cried.

Raoul sneered, "Then you will regret it, my dear. Every moment you spend with him… now it is happiness. But soon you'll see that it was all a mistake. You'll be sorry Christine. I'll be waiting for you to return."

"That will not—"

Raoul laughed viciously. It was full of malice and something that terrified Christine. This couldn't be that gentle man she had once loved. Could it? "You think that Erik is an Angel, do you not? That he will free you? That despite his past he is no longer a Phantom. He is a killer, Christine. Should you do anything at any moment to displease him he will make you sorry for it. He killed Joseph Boquet, not because he needed any means, but because he is a madman!"

"No! That's not true! He-he wouldn't—"

"Do you really believe that he wouldn't? Haven't you seen him when he is angry? Doesn't it make him do terrible things?"

"Stop it!"

"You know deep inside that you cannot trust this man. You know what he can do… what he has done… even what he will do." Raoul mocked.

Christine took in a sharp breath, "Enough!"

Raoul grabbed Christine by the shoulders and pulled her close to him. He whispered in her ear, "And what if Joseph Boquet saw him? Can't you imagine his reaction, since Joseph Boquet was telling everybody? The Phantom wants to stay hidden, Christine. And Joseph Boquet was ruining that plan. Don't you think that would anger Erik enough? Yes, Christine, Erik killed Monsieur Boquet."

Christine pushed away from Raoul, tears trickling down her cheeks, "You're lying!"

"Am I? Perhaps Joseph Boquet saw Erik dropping a set during a rehearsal. Or sending a letter. Perhaps he found the lair. Perhaps he ripped off Erik's mask."

Christine shook her head vigorously, "E-Erik wouldn't get caught!"

Raoul's grin was horrifying, "You sound unsure, my dear. May I ask why that is?"

"Stay away from me!" Christine shouted.

Raoul grabbed Christine's wrist, "I'd be happy to, you ungrateful whore. But it is my job to protect you from one such as Erik. You are my fiancée."

"I am not your fiancée! Let go of me!"

Raoul's grip on Christine's wrist tightened, "I'm afraid, my dear, I cannot allow you to go to Erik anymore." His hand slid up until he was gripping her shoulder. He pulled her behind him as he headed toward the door of his bedroom.

"What are—Raoul let me go!"

The two exited into the hallway.

Raoul paid no heed to Christine's screams and cries of protests. Soon the two were in Raoul's carriage. Christine kicked at the doors, but Raoul held them in place.

"Let me out!" Christine screamed.

"I'm afraid I cannot do that." Raoul replied flatly.

Christine breathed slowly, "W-where are you t-t-taking me?"

Raoul's gaze fixed on her, "To the church, my dear."

"C-church? You think I'll marry you?"

"I don't think you have much of a choice."

**xXx**


	11. Flames of Desire

**A/N: **Here is the next chapter of 'The Wicked'! Yes, there is M rated content in this chapter, this is why the story is rated M. I hope you like it! Gahh another cliffhanger at the end, sorry! I hope you like it, please tell me what you think!

**The Wicked**

**11. Flames of Desire**

"God as my witness I shall never marry you!" Christine screamed as Raoul hauled her along the church steps.

Raoul tightened his grip on her wrist and brought their bodies close together, "You wouldn't want to see your Angel get hurt? Would you?"

Christine voice was sharp, but unsure, "E-Erik wouldn't be so foolish as to fall into one of your traps."

"If you were the price, I daresay he would."

Unable to break free of Raoul's powerful grasp, Christine made a small noise and spit in Raoul's eyes.

Raoul immediately let go of her hand, wiping his eyes and crying out in anger.

There wasn't one moment to spare, Christine darted from the church steps and ran as fast as she could towards the carriage. But in only seconds she felt the familiar, powerful hand grasp her shoulder and whirl her around. She screamed as Raoul dragged her into the church, hitting him with her small fists. "Let… me go!" She screamed angrily, tears stinging her eyes. But she clawed them back.

A moment later a man came out, his eyes were a startling blue and his hair was white. He was plump and short. Christine stared at him, and suddenly stopped screaming and fighting. This man… his eyes fascinated her. They were like glass. Transparent, and they shined gracefully, as if she could look through his eyes into his soul, which was pure and gentle.

"What is this?" The man's voice was worriedly, and he blinked, as if ignorant of all bad in the world.

Raoul spoke before Christine had a chance to, "We wish to get married."

The man nodded, but he turned to Christine, "My child?"

Christine felt Raoul's threatening gaze cut into her. What could she say? Would Erik be hurt? No, Raoul could not do anything to him. Could he? "F-father… I…" Her voice cracked as she looked back at Raoul, whose eyes were expecting. "I…"

The man spoke once again, now to Raoul. "Free her of your grip, how can she speak when she is silenced by pain?"

Raoul reluctantly let Christine go, prompting the man to speak once more, smiling at Christine, "My daughter, speak now."

Christine suddenly felt comfortable with this man. He was kind and gentle. He seemed to detect good in somebody. Could he detect good in Erik, despite his face? "Father… I do not wish to marry this man."

"And what holds you to this? Why are you here?"

Christine wanted to say _'Because he forced me to come'. _But instead she said, "It is an arranged marriage. My family is expecting…" Her voice trailed off as she said the word 'family'.

The man stepped down and put his hand on Christine's back, gesturing her to walk with him, as the two headed toward the door of the church. "My sweet daughter, I am sure you wish to honor your family. But I regret to tell you, I do not accept to wed any two people, unless both agree to it. If you wish to be married, you may go to a different church." When he saw Christine's eyes light up, he laughed, "What is your name, daughter?"

"Christine Daae." Christine said softly.

"Well, my daughter Christine, I hope I will see you soon. But for now," He opened the door, "I believe you need to find your own path, before you come to see me again."

"Y-yes, father. I will."

"And Christine?"

"Yes, father?"

The man smiled, "Whoever he is, he is truly blessed."

Christine smiled back to him, her voice was tender, "Father, what is your name?"

"You may call me Father De—" He stopped short. He looked up at Christine, "Father Moore."

Christine nodded.

* * *

><p>"Erik!" The scream came.<p>

Erik turned and saw Christine standing on the other side of the lake. He went to the lever and the gate ascended.

Christine flung herself into his arms, her fingernails digging into his back.

"Christine?" He asked worriedly. "What is—"

"Just hold me." Christine whispered, clutching him hard. Her breath was ragged, but feeling his hard body warm against her had an instant calming effect. The tears that were about to pour down her face seemed to evaporate as Erik wrapped his arms around her back.

Erik pulled away from her, a smile now on his face. "Christine, give me your hand."

He took her left hand and slid the diamond ring Raoul had given her off. He opened her hand and then place the ring back in it, closing her hand around it.

Her eyes lifted to him, unsure what he meant for a moment. But then she smiled. She opened her hand and slid the ring back onto her finger.

Erik stared into her eyes, "I will get you a ring. Whenever I can."

Christine nodded. "I… have a performance tonight. I need to go get ready."

"I'll be watching."

* * *

><p>The last lingering note faded, and Christine took in a sharp breath.<p>

The audience roared with applause, many throwing flowers up onto the stage.

Raoul watched Christine from his usual place in box seven. She looks radiant. She was dressed as Amnita, as the opera was putting on the show 'Don Juan Triumphant', given anonymously to the owners. Christine's eyes were lit with pure joy. A single red rose was put in her wild brown curls.

Raoul knew that rose.

The music began to play again. A deep, melodic tune filled the theatre. It rung in Raoul's mind, as if he had heard it before…

A man was now onstage. Dressed all in black with a black mask on…

Raoul immediately knew him.

_Erik._

Erik's voice rung throughout the quiet opera as he sang:

"_You have come here… in pursuit of your deepest urge…_

_In pursuit of the wish, which 'till now…_

_Has been silent… silent…_

_I have brought you… That our passions may fuse and merge…_

_In your mind you've already succumbed to me, dropped all defenses, completely succumbed to me…_

_Now you are here with me… No second thoughts…_

_You've decided…_

_Decided…"_

Christine felt her eyes flutter shut at the familiar rapture of Erik's voice. The music was still for a moment, only to get louder and more confident. Then Erik began to sing once more:

"_Past… the point of no return…_

_No backwards glance… _

_Our games of make believe, are at an end…_

_Past… all though of "if" or "when"… no use resisting… abandon thought, and let the dream descend…"_

Erik lunged toward Christine, his hand wrapped around her neck, as he pressed her back against his chest as he had before. His other arm wrapped around her lower stomach, caressing her. His voice grew fierce:

"_What raging fire shall flood the soul?_

_What rich desire unlocks its door?_

_What sweet seduction lies… before… us…"_

Christine could hardly breath. Her whole body was tingling, as if it had been set on fire. Erik freed her of his grasp, holding her arm until reaching the very tips of her fingers, then letting go:

"_Past… the point of no return…_

_The final threshold…_

_What warm, unspoken secrets, will we learn?_

_Beyond the point of no… return…"_

Christine took in a breath and began to sing her lines. Her voice was strong and certain:

"_You have brought me… to that moment when words run dry… to that moment when speech disappears into silence… silence…_

_I have come here, hardly knowing the reason why…_

_In my mind I've already imagined our bodies entwining, defenseless and silent…_

_Now I am here with you… no second thoughts… I've decided… decided…"_

Her eyes cast upon Erik, and he held himself back, trying as hard as he could not to pull her toward him. Those dark eyes… so filled with desires and passions… a hunger he had never seen before in Christine. When she sang again it was forceful and true:

"_Past… the point of no return… No going back now…_

_Our passion play had no, at last, begun…_

_Past… all though of right or wrong… One final question…"_

The two began ascending the wooden stairs to the long, skinny platform that was suspended above the stage.

"_How long should we two wait, before we're one?_

_When will the blood begin to race? _

_The sleeping bud burst into bloom?_

_When will the flames at last… consume… us?"_

They began to walk toward each other, their voices harmonizing perfectly.

"_Past the point of no return…_

_The final threshold…_

_The bridge is crossed! So stand and watch it burn!"_

Erik twirled Christine, so that their bodies melted together, locking in the perfect sensation. Erik's strong, large hands maneuvered around her body, moving downwards, and back up again.

"_We've past the point of no… return…"_

The final notes played, and Erik felt Christine shudder under his touch. His hands caressed her shoulder as he sang a different tune, one Raoul recognized all too well:

"_Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime…_

_Lead me, save me from my solitude…_

_Say you want me with you here, beside you…_

_Anywhere you go let me go, too! _

_Christine, that's all I ask of—"_

His last word was cut off as Christine threw her arms around him, pressing her lips forcefully against his.

Gasps came from the audience, as the two pulled away.

Christine looked around, and then moved her eyes to box seven.

Raoul stared at her scornfully.

She turned to Erik, "W-we need to g—"

"Hold onto me."

"What?"

"Hold onto me!" Erik insisted.

Christine wrapped her arms around him, as Erik unsheathed a sword, her swiped at a rope nearby, and the wooden floor below them gave way. The two plummeted down, down, down.

Christine screamed loudly, but clutched onto Erik with all her might.

What she didn't see was the huge candle-lit chandelier crashing down upon the audience.

* * *

><p><strong>xXx<strong> **(M rated content in this next part, if you are not comfortable reading it, look for when the scene changes)**

Christine gazed down at the ring that was on her finger. It was Raoul's ring, she knew, but it did not signify her engagement to Raoul. No, this ring was for Erik. She gazed up at Erik, who was watching her. She took a small step forward, "Erik…"

Erik put his finger to her lips, silencing her. For a moment, the only sound in the extensive lair was the lake, swirling about. But then Erik spoke, his voice full of emotion, "Christine. You… you have given me everything. You have looked on me as a man, not a monster and have blessed my life." His voice cracked. "And still I find myself wondering if this is all a dream. If I should wake up, again the pitiful beast I have always been."

Christine let out a small breath, her lips were inches away from his, "If this is a dream, I pray to God I should never wake up." Her lips caressed to his, heat radiating off of her onto him. She wrapped her arms around his back, and shuddered as she felt his hand wander her body.

Erik kissed her more forcefully now, and she let his tongue glide sensually into her mouth. Something in him felt… wrong.

He pulled apart from her for a moment, gazing into her eyes. Such innocence. Her eyes danced across his face, searching for something. She looked so beautiful, her wild brown curls framing her face. Her eyes shinned brightly and hopefully.

That was when realization came to Erik. She _wanted _him. She _needed _him.

She loved _him. _

Erik tilted her neck back gently, kissing her once more. Though this time, it was passionate and hungry.

The short sleeve of her dress slipped down to her shoulder.

To Erik's utter surprise, Christine maneuvered her hand around his body easily, completely willing.

He bent down and put his arm under the back of her knees, lifting her into his arms easily. He when he came to the bed, he set her down gently, then moved on top of her. She moved her clothed leg between his legs, keeping their bodies close.

"Christine…" Came Erik's muffled growl.

Christine pushed on Erik's chest, telling him silently to go on his back. She climbed on top of him, kissing his neck. Her left hand moved across Erik's body, but then she took his hand, squeezing it tightly.

Christine began to shake suddenly, as if she were frightened. Still, she kissed Erik as forcefully as ever. But she found herself asking one question over and over: _Can she do this?_

She had never given herself to a man before, and now…

But this was Erik. The only man she would ever-could ever-consider giving herself to. Everything felt right. Their bodies seemed to melt together as if made for each other.

Christine took in a deep breath and pulled away from Erik, still perched atop his chest.

"Christine?" He asked worriedly. "Are you all right?"

Christine sighed, not answering at first. Then she looked at Erik, her eyes read utter passion. "Yes." She said decidedly. She kissed Erik again.

Erik felt a feeling he had not before. It was a fire that ignited inside of him, consuming him in every way. He needed to have Christine. With every moment, it seemed as though this was taking too long. He was almost unable to keep from flipping her over and parting her legs. Slowly, tenderly, his hand moved from her lower stomach up to her breast. He felt her tense under his touch, but the relax her body. Erik slid his hand up her hand and to her shoulder, pulling the already fallen sleeve of her shirt down further and further, under all that was on the top half of Christine's body was her bodice.

Christine was such a delicate creature. Could her poison her like this? Could he take her… now?

Erik pulled away from her. "Christine…" He saw confusion in Christine's face, and he said, "A-are you sure you want to do this?"

Christine sucked in a breath, "I know that I love you. That you love me. You are my Angel, Erik. And I am yours. I cannot wait. Not now…" She inched closer to him, whispering seductively, "Not now…"

Again, their lips melted together.

Erik made quick work of her bodice. His arms wrapped around her back, and he began to unlace the ties of her bodice. When he felt the tight fabric come loose, he pulled it from under Christine and threw it to the side.

Christine found herself nearly pulling Erik's shirt over his head. She felt her naked breast brush up against his chest. She let out a cry of pleasure as Erik flipped her over. She was once again under him, feeling his ragged breath against her chest.

In one moment, Erik had slid the rest of her dress down her legs, flinging it off to the side. He swooped down on her, kissing her neck and biting at her ear lobe. He began to trail his kisses downward, finding himself suckling on her breast. He bit at her navel, making her gasp with a pleasured shock.

"_Erik!" _Christine cried in both pleasure and pain. She moved her hands sensually across his back, gesturing for him to move back up to her.

Christie once again took his hand in hers, breathing heavily.

Erik lifted up her hand, kissing her wrist and palm.

With one hand, Christine began to unbutton Erik's trousers. When he let her hand free, she flung them off him, revealing his muscular legs.

Christine hooked her legs around Erik's hip, taking in a deep breath as she returned his heated kisses. There was only one last lingering thought that came to her mind before they were one:

_Finally._

With one singular thrust, Erik entered Christine's body, her tightness surrounding him.

"Oh, God!" Christine screamed. Her breath was uneven and she threw back her head in rapture.

Again and again, the bliss continued through the hours. Until at last, Erik flopped down beside Christine on the bed.

Neither one of them moved, and there was no sound except their hard breathing.

Christine's eyes shifted over to Erik, and she took his hand, their fingers entwining.

Erik looked over at her, his eyes filled with disbelief.

Christine leaned forward and kissed him gently. Her voice was soft and tender, "I love you, Erik."

Erik kissed her hand gently, "My Angel…"

* * *

><p><strong>xXx Okay, it's over :D<strong>

"Damn it! We have let him get away too many times!" Raoul screamed at Andre and Richard. "Do you know how many people were killed tonight? Thirty, at the least!" Andre began to say something, but Raoul cut him off, "The Phantom of the Opera must be stopped! Who knows what he could be doing to Christine?"

"Vicomte, we are doing everything we can to find the Phantom." Andre said defensively. "He is not foolish. He will do whatever he can to cover his tracks."

"Then we must do all in our power to be sure he does not get away!" Raoul insisted. He lowered his voice, "I did not want to say this, but I am afraid for Mademoiselle Daae's safety."

"Oh?" Richard asked.

"Yes. And… she has been different lately."

"Different?"

"Indeed." Raoul replied. "I believe the Phantom has done something to her… Her has bewitched her… seduced her. The poor possessed girl even told me his name."

"His name?"

"A cursed name. _Erik Destler_. He has convinced her that he is the Angel of Music her father promised her on his deathbed."

Andre ran his fingers through his hair, "Good God…"

"I know, Monsieur. She will not be swayed otherwise, as she has utter faith in her father." Raoul said. "Now I believe I know where this Erik Destler lives. And there is only one thing we can do to redeem Mademoiselle Daae, Monsieurs."

Richard raised an eyebrow, "And what is that, Vicomte?"

Raoul's eyes gleamed with malice, "We must kill Erik Destler."

* * *

><p><strong>Damn I hate the Vicomte... But I guess you're supposed to. Chapter 12 is soon to come! <strong>

**Hope you liked it *wink to all you E/C fans*, please tell me what you thought!**

**_{Rose Diamund}_**


	12. Friend or Phantom?

**Author's Note: **Okay, here's the next chapter for 'The Wicked'. I have a great deal of chapter 13 done, so it will either be uploaded later today or tomorrow.

Another thing (totally off topic): I'm writing a new story called 'A Rare, Unearthly Thing' with my lovely sister who's username is Kate Pendragon. I'd really appreciate it if you guys were to go check it out and tell us what you think! It on her account... Anywho, thanks for reading. Enjoy this chapter of 'The Wicked' and be sure to review!

_{Rose Diamund}_

**The Wicked**

**12. Friend or Phantom?**

Christine's eyes opened lazily. Her body was pressed against Erik's, making her feel warm and secure. She rested her head on Erik's shoulder, feeling him even breathing underneath her. She closed her eyes for a moment, serenity washing over her. She felt Erik stir, and then his smoky green eyes opened, staring into her eyes. Christine let out a small sigh, and then sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She felt Erik sit up behind her and run his hands up her back and rest on her shoulders. He ran his hands to the front of her, pulling her back toward him.

"Erik…" Christine breathed as he kissed her neck. "I… have rehearsals…"

Erik freed her from his grasp, and allowed her to stand from the bed. Christine put back on her bodice and slipped her dress over her head. She turned her back to Erik, "Help me." She commanded softly.

Erik laced her dress back up, and stood himself. "Do you want to come back for a lesson tonight? I have written a song for you…"

Christine planted a kiss on his lips, "Of course," She whispered seductively, staring into his eyes.

* * *

><p>Christine looked at all the flowers in her room. She had received many from her performance the night before. Christine slipped out of her costume, and tied her white, laced robe tightly to her. She glanced over at the grandfather clock by the mirror, which read three o'clock. Christine started towards the mirror, and stopped just as her fingertips brushed the cold glass. No, she decided, she would go to see Erik later on.<p>

She pulled off her robe and dressed quickly, then turned to exit her dressing room, shutting the door loudly behind her. She went down the white marble steps and soon came to the entrance of the opera. She pushed the door open, and felt the cold, crisp air greet her solemnly.

All of Paris seemed to still, and the only sound was Christine's shoes against the pavement of the street—the only sound in the world. Christine walked for a while, and she felt her body begin to shiver as snow began to glide down from the grey sky above. She looked up at the sky, little snowflakes falling down gracefully, like little ballerinas falling from Heaven. Somehow, despite the beauty of the snows descent, a grim feeling settled in the air and sky. Everything seemed dimmer, and Christine felt a shiver run up and down her spine—though not from the cold.

Finally, Christine reached her destination. She went up the cold stone steps until she reached the Church's door. She pulled open the handle, and reentered the Church. She heard nothing, except her own breathing. She whispered, "Father Moore?" Her voice seemed to cut through the silence, making it stir.

For a moment, there was only silence, and then she heard someone walking, until Father Moore was once again in sight. His blue eyes were bright and shining, and Christine could not speak, for a moment those blue eyes entranced her.

A wide smile spread across his face, and his voice was soothing and silky, "My daughter, you have returned."

It took Christine a moment to find her voice, and she merely nodded foolishly.

Father Moore took a step towards her, "And does something ail you, my child? Will you not speak?"

"I had… I had only wanted to see you." Christine replied weakly. Something of this man seemed so familiar, and still it was impossible to detect. "Father, forgive me but I… do I not know you? Have I not met you before I set foot in the Church?"

Father Moore hesitated, he shook his head, "No, my child. It is impossible. My home has been this Church. It… has always been my home. I rarely ever leave. Perhaps…" He stopped and shook his head once more, "No. It is not possible."

"Forgive me, then," Christine said in a small voice. "You… remind me of someone I used to know. Someone…" Christine shook the thought away.

Father Moore smiled, "It is no matter."

Both were silent, and Christine looked around at the Church for a moment. The stain glass windows were bright and colorful, and yet they seemed dismal. The snow outside clung to the window, making it look as though the Angels in the windows were crying. The whole Church seemed like a silent sanctuary, where no one could find her. It chilled her as she thought of this like a hidden lair, a small light locked deep within the darkness of the cruel, harsh world. This Church was the small ray of light Christine had searched for her whole life. This man, whoever he truly was, was so familiar to her he felt like an old friend. Christine felt chilled suddenly, and said quietly, "It… is so beautiful here."

Father Moore face was solemn and sad, "Yes, it is the only beauty I have known in a long time."

"Father?" Christine asked.

Father Moore smiled sorrowfully, "Oh, it is nothing, my Child. Merely a sad thought come upon me once more, one I would like to forget."

"May I inquire what memory…?"

His laugh was bitter and his voice soft, "I suppose that everyone is followed by a ghost of their past. A phantom drifting behind… Oh, no, my dear, forgive me if I am so conceited. Was there something you wished to tell me?"

Christine shook her head, "No. No, nothing." Another ring of silence followed. Christine finally said, "I can hardly remember a Church. It has been so long since I have been inside one. I came to the Opera as a small girl, and only a chapel has been my sanctuary."

An odd look crossed Father Moore's face, "Y-you live in the Opera House?"

"Yes," Christine replied.

Father Moore looked down, "It is lovely here, isn't it? This Church has been my home for most of my life… I have often marveled at its beauty, its secrets…"

"Secrets, Father?"

"Oh, yes. These walls hold secrets behind them. They hear everything, watching, waiting. And still, they keep to themselves, never speaking. You can hear their whispers in the night, trading secrets, speaking softly." He laughed, "Oh, but I am just an old man, aren't I? You must think me mad."

"Oh, no." Christine said, sincerity washing over her face, "No, I find you as if you were my own Father."

"And what would your father say to that?"

Christine replied softly, "He could say nothing. He… is dead."

"Forgive me," Father Moore put his hand on Christine's shoulder, "I know what it is like to loose one so close to you as that."

"Do you?"

"Yes." Father Moore turned away from Christine, "My wife, and my only child. Both dead. Both gone." He did not look back at Christine, "Since then I have hardly spoken to anyone, hardly loved anyone. Until I came to this Church." He gestured around, "This was my salvation." He turned back to Christine, and she could see a small tear in the corner of his eye, "But you were telling me of the Church."

"Yes," Christine answered. "I have only one memory of it. I was just a girl of six or seven, and I remember my father standing with me, holding my hand and smiling at me. I remember hearing the organ play, echoing throughout the Church. The most beautiful sound that has ever reached my ears."

Father Moore smiled, "How nice." He walked over to a large organ sitting in a corner of the extensive room. He sat down at the bench, and began to play a melody. The sound boomed like thunder, vibrating and echoing through the Church.

Christine's whole body relaxed at first, listening to the music. It was beautiful, the mix of sounds blending together.

Father Moore looked over at Christine, smiling, "You like the music?"

"Very much." Christine replied, returning the smile.

"It is one of the only things that can put me to peace. As a young boy I always loved hearing the music of the Church. My father always told me that the Lord Himself blessed the music of the organ playing the Church. That it was His music that traveled to the player's fingers in an instant. Yes, since then I have always blessed music myself. Of any form." He furrowed his brow, "It is a pity I no longer hear the music I once heard as a child. You see, my father always took me to the Opera house. Oh, how I miss it."

"Then why do you not allow me to take you?" Christine asked, "I would love to let you hear me sing…"

"Oh, no, thank you my dear. But I cannot return to the Opera. I cannot go anywhere."

Christine frowned, "But why?"

A sad, disheartened look crossed Father Moore's face, "I… I don't recall ever…" He shook his head, without finishing the sentence, "I pledge myself to the Church. I could never leave." He said with a shrug.

Christine placed her hand on Father Moore's shoulder gently, "Father, why are you so disquieted? What is the matter? Tell me, what has happened to you?"

"Oh, my dear it is all in the past. It is all finished. There'd be no use."

"Please," Christine stared into those big, shimmering blue eyes. Such light was held in them, yet such sadness.

Father Moore sighed, "My wife… Oh, how it ails me to say it. She was not… not the kindest woman. When I found she was with child, I am ashamed to say I accused of it not being my own. She had been acting strangely the last few days and… Oh, I had such a temper. The poor woman lost the child and killed herself." Christine saw tears form in his eyes, "I... I left then, and committed myself to God." He lifted his gaze to Christine. Christine felt her breath catch in her lungs. God, those eyes... they held something... _something... _"My dear, I am sorry. I have burdened you with the terrors of my past. Please, forgive me."

Christine averted her gaze, shifting uncomfortably, "No... No, I thank you for telling me."

Father Moore smiled sadly, he patted Christine's shoulder, "Go now, my child. You'd best be on your way back to the Opera House."

Christine nodded, "Yes. Thank you, Father. I... I hope to return to you soon."

Father Moore smiled, "I would like that, my child."

Christine gave a short nod and a small smile, and with that, she was gone.

* * *

><p>Erik sat at his piano, playing the piece he had written for Christine. When he heard splashing on the other side of the lake, "Erik!" Christine called.<p>

Erik stood almost immediately; he pulled the lever, allowing Christine to enter. She wrapped her arms around his back. After a moment, she pulled away and stared at him. Christine felt as though her throat had run dry, but she mustered the words, "Erik, I have just come back from—"

"Christine!" A voice behind Christine screamed.

Christine knew that voice. She cursed that voice silently. She turned around, "R-Raoul, what—"

"Ah, Vicomte, how kind of you to join us," Erik spat venomously. "I had rather hoped that you would come."

"Free her! Whatever spell you have cast upon her, whatever seduction you have bewitched her with—free her of it!" Raoul cried.

"Raoul, you should not have come." Christine said shortly, "Do you not see that I am no longer yours? I will never be yours."

Raoul sneered, "Perhaps you are not, but you should be. The whole opera is looking fro the Phantom. The murderer."

"Raoul Erik did not kill anybody! He never killed Joseph Boquet—"

"I am not talking of Joseph Boquet," Raoul said, a poisonous grin spreading across his face, "I am talking of last night, which he killed with the chandelier."

Christine looked to Erik with confusion, "Erik? What of the chandelier?"

But Erik's eyes were on Raoul, his voice was hard and hate filled, "You bastard."

"Oh, did you think that it would stay a secret from her? That she would not find out her precious Angel is in fact the murdering madman we all expecting him to be? No, Erik, you must have guessed. You must have known we would return, that we would reveal who her _Angel _truly is!"

Christine looked between the two, "W-what do you mean? What has happened?"

Raoul grinned at Erik, "Do you want to tell her? Or shall I?"

Erik's gaze never left Raoul; his face was twisted in anger, "Turn around, Vicomte. If you know what is good for you…"

Raoul laughed bitterly, "Oh, yes! I'd almost forgot of your performance last night." He turned to Christine, "What? Did he take you? Oh, I'm sure he did." He let out a snicker, "That would make things worse, wouldn't it Erik? Finding out the truth afterwards… pity it had to be like this."

"Be like _what?" _Christine nearly screamed.

Raoul's laughed sounded once more, "Your Angel here let the chandelier fall on the audience. Do you remember when you made that little trip through the floor? The robe he cut was holding up the chandelier! And now at least thirty people were hit by the chandelier, and more probably burned to death in the fire."

Christine's voice was weak, "You-you're lying." She whispered, "H-he…" She looked at Erik, "You… w-wouldn't…"

"Oh, you think so, do you? That you're Angel _wouldn't _do something like this? That murder is beneath him?" Raoul sneered, "You're a fool, Christine. You should have come with me while you had the chance!"

Christine was staring at Erik now, and he returning the gaze. Her eyes were filled with horror and dubiousness. Tears caked her cheeks, and she took a deep breath, only one word passing her lips in a whisper, "Erik..."


	13. The Angel in Hell

**A/N: **Okay so here is 'The Wicked' chapter 13. Sorry for the wait, I've been a bit busy lately. I'll try to get everything updated asap. Oh and sorry - I kind of rushed through this chapter so it's definitely not my best, I'm sure you'll all agree. Enjoy.

_{Rose Diamund}_

**The Wicked**

**13. The Angel in Hell **

The room suddenly fell silent. All noises seemed to cease except Raoul's uneven breathing. Glistening tears fell down Christine's cheeks, and her breath came short and swift. She was shaking with rage and staring at Erik, her face hardened. Her voice rang out strong and venomous, "After all… you've promised me… All the times I've fought to prove your innocence…" Her voice trailed off, and the next words came cracked and powerless, "you were always that monster everyone to you for, weren't you?" Her voice once more gained confidence and rose, until she was shouting, "You were never my Angel! You were hiding, lurking in the shadows, lusting for blood. And now, foolishly believing you love me, I have fed your lust for flesh!"

"No!" Erik screamed. With one bone-chilling scream, Erik threw a rope around Raoul's neck and began to tie him to the gate.

Christine gasped, appalled. After a moment she threw herself on Erik, trying with all her might to pry him away. Erik's force was too strong, and she fell into the water with a loud splash. "Stop this!" Christine screamed, tears flooding to her eyes.

Raoul gritted his teeth, struggling to break free against the thick, rough ropes. "Kill me, Erik! It would only make your beloved hate you more!" He spat.

Erik whirled around to face Christine, who had risen to her feet. "Do you love this man?" He pointed at Raoul, "This bastard who has done you more harm than anyone? Can you defend him?"

Christine's eyes burned into him, "More than I can you." Tears streaked her cheeks, but she kept her face in a hard, stone-like expression. Hate read in her eyes, and she tried to the best of her ability not to drop to the ground in a heap of uneven sobs and cries. Her eyes met Erik's, daring him to speak.

Erik returned the gaze, though his eyes were soft and pleading. He watched Christine in a moment, seeing that familiar look in her eyes. He had seen that look of spurn before; the look that read utter abhor and disgust. One word rang in his mind, a word he could almost hear Christine saying: _monster. _His hand automatically went to his mask, running over the cool, smooth surface. His fingers curled around the edge of it, tears welling in his eyes. He had been damned for so long, hiding, lurking in the shadows. And finally he was raised to the light, only to be dropped again, this time from a great height. His mind wandered to his childhood, and when he was only a boy of four years-how he was sent away by his mother. His father had abandoned him and his mother. He had sometimes wondered why his mother hated him so—as if he hadn't known.

_Erik remembered himself, as young boy of four, mask-less. He had been in his room; a crude, slapped together chamber, with a stiff mattress in the corner of the grimy floor and a single window-the only light coming in. He had feebly stood the mattress up on its side and propped it against the wall, then climbed up to look to the outdoors. To greet him had been a triumphant sun, making the forest outside his window gleam a bright emerald. He had been so entranced by the sight that he had not noticed his mother enter the room, a long, leather whip in her hand. _

"_Erik," she had snapped, as if his name were the name of Satan._

_Erik had dropped to the floor, knowing his mother would not be pleased to see him watching outside. He had never been allowed to go outside during the daytime; for fear that someone would see him. "Mother," He mumbled obediently, trying to stand with straight posture._

_His mother had circled around him, slapping the whip against the palm of her hand. Erik had held his breath, thinking this would be a time he would not get whipped. _

_But suddenly, from behind, he had felt a huge force pushing him to the ground, the whip making a huge crack! Against his back. He had begun to sob then, the pain in his spine overbearing. But his mother had only grabbed his from behind and pulled him upward forcefully, bringing his face close to her. Her breath smelled of liquor, he remembered vaguely, and her lips had been curled upward in a malicious smile. "You've been looking outside again, haven't you?" She asked. _

_When Erik did not reply, she shook him hard, "Damn it, boy, you'll answer me."_

"_Yes, Mother. I was." He had stared at the floor, seeing an ant scurry across the dirty ground. _

"_Look at me, damn you," His mother scolded. He lifted his eyes to hers. She looked disgusted, running her thumb over his distortion, "You know how ugly you are, don't you?" Erik nodded slowly. "You know how generous I am not to throw you into the streets, don't you?" She insisted. He nodded again. She shook him again, "Well?" She said expectantly._

"_You are merciful," four-year-old Erik had repeated this sentence so many times he knew it backwards, "I love you, mother."_

_She let her powerful grip on him go, and then pushed him to the floor, "You're hideous, Erik. No one can accept you're love, let alone love you in return. You're better off staying hidden." She had then let out a short, cruel laugh, "You're better off dead, for that matter." She stood and began walking towards the door, tossing these next words over her shoulder, "God only knows what I must have done to conceive one such as you. I am cursed Erik, just as much as you. You are pitiful, not worthy to live in this, God's Earth." She had turned back around then, a devious look on her face. She kneeled down, "You never see God's Light, do you? Never seen Heaven or an Angel?" She had whispered. Erik shook his head, a stray tear running down his cheek. She had reached out and stroked the tear away, then, when her eyes looked soft and forgiving, she had pushed Erik down with such force he fell back, smashing his head into the floor, and he had let out a scream of pain. She had laughed then, mercilessly and cruelly. Then stood and began to leave the room again, "You are damned, Erik. God had abandoned you, for even He knows of your worthlessness." She slammed the door shut then, and locked it firmly. _

_Erik had been lying on the floor, pain and sorrow flooding through him. Tears stained his cheeks, "You are damned, Erik," He whispered to himself, echoing his mother's words._

Now, twenty-four years later, he saw same look of hatred in Christine eyes as he had in his mother's. He saw the same burning in her eyes. But now- it was different. His mother, he had never truly loved. But Christine, she was heaven and earth. She was an Angel- all he had. And now, she was gone as well.

Erik felt anger swell inside of him, and he yanked the rope around Raoul's neck tighter, making the Vicomte gag. He turned and screamed at Raoul, _"Order your fine horses now! Raise up your hand to the level of your eyes! Nothing can save you now, except perhaps, Christine…"_

He saw the look in Christine's eyes go from hate to fear to shock. She just stared at him, unable to move.

This only made Erik angrier and angrier, he whirled on Christine, his voice harsh and sharp, _"start a new life with me! Buy his freedom, with your love. Refuse me and send your lover to his death! This is the choice! This is the Point of No Return!"_

Christine felt her eyes go wide. What had happened to him – her Angel? No, she could see it now. Her Angel was gone. It only left the monster that had consumed him. Anger flared in her eyes again. _"The tears I might have shed for your dark fate, grow cold and turn to tears of HATE!"_

Erik winced as her voice grew.

"_Angel of music… you deceived me…" _Christine looked down on Erik now, as if pitying him. Her eyes were filled with tears. She next spoke only a few words, her voice a whisper, but it echoed in Erik's mind a million times: "I gave you my mind blindly."

Erik's throat tightened. Her stare was penetrating. But he felt anger consume him once again. "You try my patience. Make you choice." He pulled the rope tighter around Raoul's neck, making a choking noise come from Raoul.

Christine voice was strong but low, "You are a pitiful creature of darkness. You have deceived me with your false love. I do not know what kind of life you have lived, but I can promise you that you will be forever alone."

It felt as though her words had been burned into Erik. He let the rope drop to the water. "Leave," He said coldly. Christine just stood there, staring in awe. "LEAVE! GO!" Erik screamed.

Christine ran to Raoul, and untied the ropes. Raoul pulled her close to him in an embrace, and she gasped as he did. She turned her head, but Erik was gone.

"Come, Christine." Raoul took Christine's hand.

Christine nodded, but then a moment before she stepped into the boat she said: "Wait."

Erik watched the monkey music box clapping its cymbals.

"Erik," A voice said softly.

Erik's eyes lifted to see Christine standing before him. "I thought I told you to leave with your Vicomte." He snarled.

"You did," She replied, a muscle in her jaw twitching. "I just wanted to say goodbye."

"Haven't you said enough? I am a murderer, or do you not remember?" Erik shot back.

"I remember…" Christine said slowly. "I merely wanted to give you this." She held at arms-length the diamond crested ring. "Goodbye, Erik," Her voice was sharp and toneless. Uncaring.

Erik felt a tear trickle down his cheek, despite how he tried to hold them back. "Yes." He whispered so that his voice was hardly audible. "Goodbye."


	14. The Silence

**A/N: **hate me, love me - just leave a review :D. I am so sorry for the absence, I've been wracking my brain trying to decide how to write this chapter. And I'm really sorry it's so terribly short. The next one will be updated ASAP and it will be much longer I promise. This chapter is sort of just about how they're both feeling. Next chapter coming soon! The summer has been terribly busy. Don't forget to tell me what you think! Thanks :)

_{Rose Diamund}_

**The Wicked**

**14. The Silence**

There was no noise in the dark, cold lair except the faint swirling sound of the lake water. Erik sat at his piano, annoyance overcoming him. He thought desperately of what to write – usually melodies flowed to his mind like an undying river – but now, nothing but silence. It had to have been late at night, for no sound came from above. But still, wasn't the silence more agonizing than before? Weren't the voice that drifted down during the day _too _familiar? For the first time, Erik had no longer saw his lair as protection, but as a cage, condemning him from the outside world. Just beyond the gate, up a few flights of stairs was life. _Real _life. Instead of this Hell in which he lived, isolated. Cold. Dismal.

Erik covered his face with his hands, turning his thought back to his music. No, he realized and his stomach lurched at the thought, not his music. _Christine's _music. All he wrote was for Christine. She was his only reason that he was even here. Music had helped him to his feet, but his salvation? No. Christine was his salvation. Someone he could love undyingly, someone to hold close, someone to cherish. But she wasn't that person anymore. She wasn't there.

She was with her Vicomte. Her precious Vicomte. He was handsome, wealthy, daring. He was everything to Christine that Erik would never be.

He felt a tear form in his eye, but he wiped it away violently. He would not cry for her. She was gone.

* * *

><p>Christine bit her lip, turning over in her bed. Her room was dark and silent, and she wrapped the blankets further around her, shivering. She closed her eyes lightly and took a nice deep breath, rolling over on her side facing the wall. Her eyes were open again in a moment. She propped herself up, her elbows digging into the pillow. Her hair tumbled down her shoulders and back, long and thick. She felt a wave of sleepiness wash over her, but she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep.<p>

She kept seeing his face, tears falling off of it. His eyes so empty, as he once had been. Her expression stiffened. But didn't he deserve that? He was a murderer. He had spoken to her, seduced her with words of love and only hours before had killed so many people. He had fooled her, lied to her. She scolded herself silently.

But then… wasn't that all he had been taught? The world is cruel, and all those who have spurned you should be drenched in their own blood? Wasn't that how he was treated? Was _all _he had said a lie? It… it couldn't have been, could it? Christine felt a hot tear cascade down her cheek, and one more, then another. She lay down her back, allowing the tears to mix together, falling into her hair, on her neck.

She kept glancing toward the mirror, half of her hoping that Erik would appear. But he didn't. She hated herself for missing him, hated herself for loving him. _No, _she decided, _Erik has gone too far this time. _

She pulled the blankets over her head, and forced herself to sleep.


	15. A Little Fall of Rain

**A/N: **So this chapter isn't nearly as long as I hoped it would be. But it's all I got. Hopefully the two chapters I just updated will hold you guys for a bit. PLEASE review. I'll update again as soon as I can. Oh, and I almost forgot. One of my reviews for chapter 13 was (and I quote) **Guest: Would you let her! **Since I cannot PM you, I give you this brief messgae:

**Guest: **No, I wouldn't... that's why the story isn't over yet.

Anywho, review. Tell me your thoughts, ideas, etc. Thanks for being patient with me! :D

_{Rose Diamund}_

**The Wicked**

**15. A Little Fall of Rain**

The early afternoon was warm, a cheerful yellow sun pointed down upon Paris, warming the spring air. And despite the lovely weather, Christine Daae was miserable. Nine weeks had passed since she had last seen Erik, and since then not a note was given to the Opera owners. There hadn't been a warning, or any command from the Opera Ghost. It was almost as if he really had disappeared – although she knew he'd never leave his lair. Or would he? Christine rolled back her shoulders until her back was touching the leather seats of the carriage. She tilted her head to see out the window better, and then called to the carriage driver, "Just here will be fine, Monsieur."

The driver stopped, and Christine handed him a few coins for the trip. She walked toward the cemetery, carrying a small bouquet of flowers in her hands. She came to her father's grave, and sat down the flowers, "Father." She whispered, staring up at the huge stone grave, "you promised me to guide me. You promised that you'd send me an Angel." Her voice cracked as she spoke, and a huge lump grew in her throat, "but you have not given me an Angel father, you have given me a man, so deceitful and cruel. Your promises have been untrue. I am still suffering, every time I am awake." Tears fell down her face, "But I still wait for you. I still yearn for your help and guidance, for I need it now more than ever." Christine raised her eyes to the sky, to see that a few light grey clouds had rolled in front of the sun. "Father?" She whispered to the sky, and she closed her eyes, blocking a tear from falling down her cheek. "Please protect me. Please help me. Forgive me, please. Forgive me."

From behind the large stone grave, Erik listened closely, his eyes closed at the sound of his beautiful Christine's voice. She sounded so lost, so scared. Once, he would have been the one to coax her. But not anymore. And then the words he had prayed so much not to hear escaped her lips.

"Father, I have married Raoul. Do you remember him? My old friend. Our old friend. He had returned to the Opera. Father, he says he loves me. But," Her voice grew soft, "I don't believe I could say it back to him and truly mean it. Because…"

Erik held his breath, straining back sobs.

"Because there was someone else. But… he is gone now. I think he'll always be gone."

Erik couldn't help but look at her, her hair tied back. Her eyes shimmering with tears. She was sitting on the steps, eyes raised to the top of the grave, which read DAAE.

A cry escaped her lips, "I can't live without him. I have been waiting all these weeks… Almost two months he has left me."

A light drizzle began to fall from the heavens, and each raindrop shimmered in the veiled sunlight like a diamond.

"But there are some things that are worse… much worse…" She sobbed to the skies, rain mixing with her tears. Only, the rain was warm and tender, but her tears were cold. Cold like her heart. "I can hardly confess it, even to you."

Erik pressed himself into the wall of stone. He felt a stick crack underneath his boot.

Christine looked up, "Is someone there?"

_Damn. _Erik cursed himself for being such a fool. Why had he followed her here?

Christine's face went from confusion to utter horror, her whisper was urgent, "Erik?" Her voice grew louder, "Erik?" Nothing stirred. "Erik! Please!" She was almost screaming now, and the rain fell down harder. Her eyes wandered, but then, slowly she stood up. She walked carefully towards the back of the huge grave.

And the she saw him.

Her face was a mix of anger and relief. "Why are you here?" She screamed over the storm that was growing minute by minute.

"I needed to see you, Christine."

"Do you have any idea how much grief you caused me? Disappearing for all this time? Do you know – "

"Yes, Christine. Believe me, I know."

Christine's voice grew quiet, and her expression turned to fear, "No." She said, "You don't know. Nobody does."

"What do you mean?" Erik inquired.

She shook her head, tears – or raindrops? – falling off her face. "Oh, God. Nobody was supposed to find out."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm sorry Erik. I'm sorry for everything. Everything. I've married Raoul and now it's all gone wrong." Christine cried miserably.

Erik took a step forward, seeing Christine flinch as he did. He gritted his teeth, she was still frightened of him. "Christine, please. You'll get sick – "

"It would be for the best if I was," Christine replied.

Erik shook his head, "What has happened? Please, you were about to tell your father – "

"I can't. Oh, God I can't."

"Christine – "

"You don't understand!" She whimpered, "God help me." She mumbled under her breath. She began to sob harder as the rain picked up, her breathing became uneven. "I'm so sorry," She kept whispering. And Erik wasn't sure to whom she was speaking.

Finally, she looked up at him and whispered to him, "Please forgive me."

"Oh, Christine." Erik replied, "What would I forgive you for?"

Christine's head spun, and she almost wasn't able to allow the words to escape her mouth. It all felt unreal. Like Erik couldn't be there, like it was all a dream. And oh, God, did she wish that it was. She swallowed hard, looking up at Erik with eyes that were so desperate and sorrowful. She shivered at the cold of the rain, but she told herself how she deserved it. She was a whore, as Raoul had said. She was a fool. What had she done? Her voice was hardly audible over the storm, and when the words left her mouth Erik's heart stopped beating in his chest. "I'm pregnant."


End file.
